


Leave It On The Ice

by tothebatcave53



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A lot of mentions of blood, A very long emotional rollercoaster, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood, Body Horror, Depression, Dissociation, Eventually they will be happy, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Yuuri, Injury Recovery, M/M, Makkachin is a Good Dog, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Self-Harm, Sports related injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Victor feels very guilty, Victor takes care of yuuri, Yuuri cannot deal with anything, Yuuri has a hard time seeing that people love him, a lot of crying, accidental injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-30 21:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10172447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothebatcave53/pseuds/tothebatcave53
Summary: Their pair skate is beautiful, there are no other words to describe it. Yuuri loves it, more than any other routine he has ever skated. And then with a flash of gold as bright as the sun, he doesn't and he might never go back out onto the ice again. He knows he's hurting Victor by pulling away but he's so afraid all the time. All he sees is blood and the terrified way Victor had looked at him one last time before he had blacked out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is lots of mentions of blood, in quite a bit of detail so if that bothers you be careful. You might also have to have some suspension of disbelief since I am not 100% sure how likely this could be to actually happen but if you're looking for angst there is plenty of that to be found here.

Skating in pairs was different than skating alone, the trust you had to place in your partner was huge. Yuuri trusted Victor as much as Victor trusted him. They could complete the throws, the jumps, the spins. They’d medaled together several times already, at Worlds, at the Olympics. The Grand Prix was supposed to be their final performance, back to where it had all started. Victor was dramatic like that but Yuuri didn’t mind.

Yuuri knew right away that something wasn’t right when they went into the side by side camel spins. The gold of Victor’s skate blade moved past his vision, the cool gust of air brushing his cheek. They turned again, once more spin when Yuuri felt it, the sharp sting as the skate came too close. His body turned half more with momentum before he dropped, hand shoved to his throat.

He was vaguely aware of Victor’s terrified gasp when he collapsed to the ice next to him, of his husband’s hands pushing him to his side and pressing his own hands against Yuuri’s cut skin. Yuuri could feel how hard it was to suddenly breath, could see the darkening of his vision but it didn’t feel like it was happening to him. 

The first time Yuuri remembered having a panic attack he’d been eleven. The breath had frozen in his lungs at the time, coming out in choked terrified gasps as he’d tried to control himself. His arms had gone numb, feeling almost too heavy to hold up. It was like something was sitting on his chest, pressing down harder and harder until there was no way his body could pull air in. He’d known what was happening, had felt the symptoms but he had felt them locked inside his own mind. He couldn’t control anything then and this feels eerily similar now.

Yakov is suddenly in his line of sight, shoving Victor out of the way. There is so much noise, someone is probably shouting at him because he screwed up their routine. A routine that he knew by heart, that should have brought them home their final gold. He deserves the verbal scolding, he should have worked harder, but his vision is fading to black and then Yuuri isn’t conscious anymore and that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

 

***

 

Yuuri crawls back to awareness, his throat on fire as he tries to swallow around the dryness. His limbs feel heavy but attached to his brain again at least. Carefully he moves his hand, searching in the dimly lit room for something familiar. His fingers brush other fingers, sweep up smooth skin and find the cold roundness of a ring. Victor.

The room comes better into view. White walls, a curtain around half of the bed, a soft beeping from a heart monitor above him to the right. He has an IV running up his arm, taped securely in place. 

“Victor,” Yuuri croaks, fingers weakly curling around his husband’s. Panic wants to set in, it’s already creeping up along his spine, tightening his airway, making his eyes wet.

Victor twitches and slowly lifts his head. He looks horrid, hair flat and greasy, skin pale, eyes dull. He blinks at Yuuri once before realization sets in.

“Yuuri!” he gasps, jumping up. “Oh my god. Hold on, I’m going to grab a nurse!” 

Victor is gone before Yuuri can do anything, his fingers reaching feebly after Victor’s retreating form. His lip trembles and the tears start to slip along his cheeks. Breathing hurts, his head hurts. With trembling fingers he reaches up to his throat, feeling the bandages there. It comes back in a terrifying flood of red, reliving the feeling of watching himself bleed out on the ice.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, baby focus on me.”

Victor’s voice is soft in his ear but there are more than one pair of hands on his body. He can hear the heart monitor going crazy. Yuuri is startled to realize the animal like noise is coming from him. When everything starts to fade to black again, Yuuri happily follows it this time.

 

***

 

The next time he’s awake Yuuri feels more calm than before. He wakes up and remembers what happened. It doesn’t make it any easier to digest but at least he’s consciously aware that he must have almost died out on the ice. 

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri turns his head some, brown eyes shifting to find Victor at the bedside again. He’s awake this time but doesn’t look any better. He actually might look worse if that’s somehow possible.

“Victor…”

Victor’s lip trembles and he leans forward, cupping Yuuri’s face. “Oh thank god,” he breaths, thumb running gently along his cheek. “Yuuri how do you feel? Does anything hurt? Do you want the nurse?”  
“Water?”

Victor scrambles up to grab a cup, shoving a straw into it before he leads it to Yuuri’s chapped lips. Yuuri takes a small sip, enough to wet his dry mouth and make it easier to swallow. He sinks back to the bed after, feeling drained from just that small action.

“What happened?”

“You don’t… remember?” Victor whispers, his hands returning to holding Yuuri’s in his own. It feels good, warm.

Yuuri opens his mouth then lets it fall closed. “I was bleeding,” he says finally. The action leading up to that is a blur, after is even worse.

Victor’s lip trembles again, blue eyes filling with tears. “Yuuri I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, we were too close in our spins. I… my- my skate blade caught you. I… I severed your artery.” Victor’s voice is weak, wavering as he forces himself to talk. He’s crying, clutching Yuuri’s hand so tightly it hurts. “Yuuri, please, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri whispers. “It was an accident.”

The nurse walks in and Yuuri is thankful that she picked this time to visit; the doctor is close behind. They talk in heavy Russian, mostly to Victor though Yuuri catches some of it here and there. For the most part though, Yuuri doesn’t feel present, his eyes glazing some as he listens. Victor does the talking but he has to wonder if Victor is retaining anything at all either. When was the last time Victor slept? How long have they even been here in the hospital? They should have someone here to help them.

***

 

He has 280 stitches holding his throat closed Yuuri learns later when he’s pulled his medical file into his lap. Victor is in the bathroom, he doesn’t disappear for more than a few minutes at a time and Yuuri is feeling slightly suffocated. He knows he shouldn't; Victor is just doing his best to take care of him but Yuuri wants to shower, go home and be around Makkachin. He wants his life to feel normal again.

“Hey.”

Yuuri looks up, startled at Victor’s quiet reappearance. His fingers clench tightly around the folder, looking at Victor with watery eyes.  _ How close was I to actually dying?  _ he wants to demand but the words stick tight in his chest.

“Yuuri, baby, talk to me.” Victor is back at his side, carefully unclenching Yuuri’s fingers from around the paper. Victor massages the digits and he realizes they've gone numb from how tight he’s been holding the papers. 

“Do my parents know?” 

Victor nods slowly. “I… Called them myself,” he says and swallows thickly. 

“I want to call them.”

Already Victor is digging his phone from his pocket. “Of course. I'm sorry I should have thought of that myself.”

Yuuri takes the phone, swallowing his nerves as he dials the number. It rings several times and Yuuri realizes he had no idea what the time difference currently is. The phone picks up anyways, his mother’s voice coming through in panicked English. “Victor?”

“Momma it's me,” Yuuri whispers and immediately the woman breaks into sobs on the other end. Hearing his mother so hysterical, his father and sister in the background demanding to know what is wrong causes Yuuri to start crying too. Victor’s fingers are rubbing up and down his thigh and he looks absolutely terrified but Yuuri can’t calm him, he can’t even calm himself.

“Yuuri,” Hiroko sobs. “My baby. I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispers, throat tight. “I’m sorry for scaring you and Papa and Mari. I-” Yuuri chokes on a soft sob, shaking. Victor is crawling up next to him on the bed, even though it’s small and cramped. It doesn’t matter because Yuuri turns and sobs against his chest, thankful for his husband’s strong arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry Mama.”

Crying wears him out quickly and Yuuri finds himself slumping into Victor’s chest, the phone sliding some. “I love you Mama,” he mumbles as Victor plucks the phone up, cradling Yuuri’s head with a hand against the base of his skull. Yuuri listens to Victor speak softly in English, reassuring his mother though Yuuri isn’t sure anything can reassure her unless he is right in front of her. He wants to go home Yuuri suddenly realizes, eyes falling closed. His heart aches for the safety of Hatsetsu, for his home and his family. He dreams of the quiet streets, of the safety they provide as he hides from the rivers of blood and cold that chase him.

 

***

 

He’s discharged after only a few days. Yakov picks them up, taking them out the backdoor of the hospital. The press is in a frenzy outside, swarming like vultures over Yuuri’s almost dead corpse. He shudders and hides in the hoodie Victor had carefully pulled over his head that morning, hair still greasy and plastered against his forehead and cheeks. He wants a shower, long and hot to erase all the fear and pain that the last few days have been.

Yakov doesn’t say anything, just gives Victor a stiff nod and Yuuri a tight squeeze on his shoulder. The car ride is silent and painful. Victor doesn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand the entire drive. 

“Call me if you need anything Vitya,” is all Yakov says after he gets them up and into their apartment. Makkachin is whining, curling around Yuuri’s legs. Her tail gives a few soft thumps against the back of his thighs but she seems to know that he’s weak, scared. His fingers curl into her soft brown fur and he mindlessly moves toward their bedroom. He hears the two Russian’s speaking softly but Yuuri doesn’t stop. His clothes hit the floor as he moves until he’s standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror. The person staring back at him doesn’t look anything like him. His skin is pale, eyes sunken and rimmed red from tears and baggy from not sleeping well. The bandage is large, covering the entire left side of his throat. With trembling fingers he reaches up and pulls, ignoring the sharp tug of still healing flesh. 

The line along his throat is curved slightly, dragging downward from when Victor had started to try to pull back when he’d felt them connect. The line is puffy, an angry red with the black stitches standing out sharply. His fingers tremble as he reaches up, touching the tender skin. It hurts, he wants to throw up, but he prods at it lightly because he can feel it, how the skin underneath hasn’t started to knit itself back together quite yet. If he stares close enough, tugs just slightly he can see the skin split apart, can just about see the tender insides of his own body held together with only some thread. 

It’s Victor’s terrified gasp that drags Yuuri back from his dark thoughts, his hand falling away.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice is weak but he comes forward and grabs for Yuuri’s hand, holding them tightly as he shakes. Yuuri stares in the mirror, watching, because Victor’s eyes aren’t pulling away from the long laceration either. “Yuuri...I- I am so sorry,” Victor whispers again for maybe the millionth time that day alone. Instead of answering Yuuri just lets Victor lay his head against his shoulder, stroking the silver hair at the base of his skull as Victor’s shoulders shake in silent sobs. 

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbles finally when they have stood in the chilly bathroom for almost ten minutes. “I really want to shower.”

“Of course. Of course, yes,” Victor breaths, straightening out. He glances at the cut only once more. “But you can’t get the stitches wet so you’re going to have to sit in the tub. I… could sit with you?” he offers, hesitant in his offer as if he expects outright rejection.

“I’d like that.”  
The tub is warm when Victor finally gets it filled, helping Yuuri in before crawling in behind him. Yuuri hugs his knees, letting the water wash away the grimy feeling that the hospital had left on his skin. A wash cloth rubs down his back, along his sides, down his legs before following the same trail back up the other side. 

Despite how horrible he feels Yuuri starts to drift to sleep in the warmth of the water, slowly falling back into Victor’s chest. Eventually he feels himself being lifted, a towel around his shoulders, sheets under his naked back. His eyes close when Makkachin jumps up and curls into his side. It’s the only night he sleeps without nightmares waking him. 

 

***

 

They don’t go out and by they Yuuri really means that he doesn’t go out. Victor only goes out to get them food when they start to run low or to give Makkachin a fast walk. Yuuri spends most days in bed curled against Makkachin; the dog doesn’t leave his side unless absolutely necessary. 

“Yuuri, love, you need to eat something,” Victor pleads with him every afternoon. 

Yuuri goes through the motions. He can see how much it’s hurting Victor but he can’t stop, the fear is so great. Every night he wakes in silent screams, throat constricting until not even air can get to his lungs. He sobs, body contorting to try and escape the cut of sharp blades that sparkle like the sun.

It’s an accident that he picks up Victor’s phone, absently doing it when it gives a soft ping. There is the smell of soup coming from the kitchen, just out of sight from where he’s leaning on the couch cushions. It’s a text from Chris and Yuuri shouldn’t open his husband’s texts from his best friend but he sees his name and can’t help himself.

_ Watch out, the video of Yuuri went viral on Youtube. Its circulating everywhere. _

_ Do not watch it Victor. Do not torture yourself like that. _

Yuuri’s skin goes cold as he carefully opens Youtube to look at what video is being referred to. He subconsciously already knows, had already guessed that something like this was going to rear it’s ugly head at him sooner or later. 

**Yuuri Katsuki Throat Cut TW:BLOOD**

Yuuri clicks the link, their music flowing through the small speakers of Victor’s phone. He can see when they got too close, the moment before it went horribly wrong. Even knowing it was coming doesn’t make it easier somehow, the split second where Victor’s skate catches him. The blood spits onto the ice, bright red and there is so much of it, even before he drops the amount of blood that pours from him is astounding.

**Figure Skating Accident Front Row Seat**

**Yuuri Katsuki death scene**

**Victor Katsuki cutting Husband’s throat**

**Gory end for power Figure Skating duo**

He sees it from every angle, watches his own face contort with shock and then pain before he falls. He can’t look away at how the blood spills across the white of the ice, standing out so starkly. He can’t stop watching Victor’s face crumble with terror. His stomach is threatening to upheave but now that the social media he’s been unintentionally avoiding is in front of him he can’t stop watching himself. Yakov and Yuri appear in the fifth video, one that doesn’t only replay his drop for three minutes straight. Yakov had shoved Victor away, grabbing for Yuuri’s throat with a grim and determined expression. The other Yuri had grabbed at Victor himself when Victor had tried to fight back to Yuuri’s side. 

Yuuri doesn’t remember this part, doesn’t remember Yakov screaming at him or hauling him to his feet. He’s actually shocked that he was up and moving. His arm was loose around Yakov’s shoulder but the coach was clearly supporting most of his weight, hand shoved tight against the streaming wound. They make it to the boards, Yuuri stumbling into the medical staff that were rushing forward. Yakov never let go of him.

A loud crash drags his attention over the back of the couch, blinking back from a glassy daze he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into.

“Yuuri!”

There is shards of broken bowl all over the hardwood floor, soup splattered around the area from the bowl Victor has just dropped. He doesn’t seem concerned with the mess because Victor’s leaping at the couch instead. What if Makkachin cuts her feet on a piece of ceramic? The soup looks like the blood did on the ice, the whole apartment suddenly feels colder. Yuuri’s dizzy. 

Victor rips the phone from his hand, throwing it. Yuuri hears it land on the floor, a painful sounding crack coming from the thin piece of technology. Victor’s hands are grabbing at him, at his neck. Why? Why is he- Yuuri watches his hand being dragged away from his own throat, blood soaking his pale fingers.

“What are you doing? Yuuri look at me! What are you doing to yourself?” Victor is screaming, tears are falling from his wide blue eyes but Yuuri can’t open his mouth to answer. He didn’t even know he was doing anything. He can feel the blood now, trickling down his neck and running under his clean shirt. He’d been clawing at the stitches but he doesn’t remember doing it. 

Victor is swearing and crying, lifting Yuuri’s shirt to press it tight against the wound he’s aggravated and Yuuri just sits there and lets him. The heavy feeling in his limbs won’t disappear and he vaguely thinks how wonderful it would be if he could just pass out. 

Finally the bleeding seems to stop when Victor checks it, gently peeling the cloth away. The wound has clotted, all of his stitches are still intact. He hasn’t done any damage besides a few small scratches. Yuuri lets himself be dragged to the bathroom, his shirt carefully pulled up and away. It lands by the trashcan with a furious toss. The washcloth is warm and gentle against him, rubbing the blood away so it won’t dry and pull at his skin.

“Yuuri?” Victor whispers, his fingers tilting Yuuri’s head up carefully until their eyes finally meet. “Yuuri why did you do this to yourself?”

Yuuri stares at Victor, he can see all the pain so plainly laid out in front of him. He put it there, he doesn’t deserve his husband who cares for him and cleans him with such gentle touches.

“How close was I to dying?” Yuuri whispers instead of answering the question. He’s obsessed with knowing, with understanding just how close it had come. How many minutes, seconds, was he away from never seeing Victor ever again? From anyone he loved ever again?

Victor swallows, looking physically ill from the question. “If Yakov hadn’t of been there, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yakov?”

“He saved your life.”

Yuuri had watched the video, he knows that Yakov had jumped in immediately though he isn’t quite sure why. Yes they had gotten somewhat closer since Yuuri had moved back to Russia with Victor and they had started training at the same rink; he certainly yelled at Yuuri less than he yelled at all of his other skaters but that didn’t really equal saving someone’s life. 

“He pinched the artery closed long enough to get you off the ice and to the hospital,” Victor explains. “He has medical knowledge from way back in his youth, some war or something.”

Yuuri isn’t sure what to think of that, what to say either, so he says nothing and just sits, staring.

Victor’s hand cups his cheek, pushing their foreheads together. Never has Yuuri seen so much pain on his husband’s face. “Yuuri, I am so so sorry I hurt you. I wish I could take it all back, redo everything over. I don’t know what I would do without you and I-”

“It's okay.” Yuuri’s fingers are trembling as he carefully grabs at Victor’s shirt. “You weren’t trying to hurt me. I know that. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.” Yuuri gives Victor a weak smile, tears starting in the corners of his eyes. “I’m not mad… I’m… scared.” He swallows, tries to keep the words from spilling out but now that they’re there they won’t stop and the feelings that have been trapped inside his chest since he got home are spilling out as heavy and as fast as the tears that are now falling from his eyes. “It’s like I was watching it happening and I couldn’t do anything. It was so dark and so cold and I knew I had messed up our routine and I knew I was hurting you, I couldn’t do anything. I don’t even remember getting off the ice, I don’t remember anything but knowing that I only wanted to see you again and feeling like I never would. I was so scared. I’m still so scared,” Yuuri sobs. The cries leave him in huge ugly gasps that hurt his throat and lungs, snot dripping from his nose. He must look terrible but Victor pulls him against his shirt, holding him tight anyways. 

“I’m sorry. I will never leave, I’ll stay by you for forever, for as long as you want me.” Victor’s crying too, Yuuri can feel it in the way he’s shoulders are shaking, in the pained gasps of breath, the stuttering of his heart just under his ear. “I will do everything I can to make this right, anything to fix this.”

It isn’t much for them to go on, just words and a lot of pain but it’s a start Yuuri thinks, that maybe they’ll move on and be okay someday.

 

***

 

The first time they go outside they’re surrounded by reporters, demanding to know how he is, to ask what he remembers, wanting his side of the story, if he will stay with his husband. Yuuri panics, backpedaling as Victor starts to yell. Victor finds him later, back up in their apartment stuffed in the corner of their bedroom, sobbing. His fingers are running along the stitches but not yet clawing like they had that first day. He just wants them to go away, they sit there and remind him everyday about how broken he is, that everyone can see how broken he is.

“Tell me what to do Yuuri, what do you want?” Victor pleads, holding his hands until the shaking stops and the need to rip himself apart falls away.

“I want to go home,” Yuuri cries into Victor’s shoulder.

“I don’t- we are home?” Victor whispers before his eyes widen and he nods. “Oh Yuuri my love of course,” he says with understanding. “I’ll book us flights tonight. It’s okay baby, shh.” Victor crushes him to his chest. “Of course we can go home.”

 

***

 

Coming home to Hatsetsu hurts more than Yuuri thought it would but the town is quiet, everyone knows each other and they fend off the reporters that come looking for a story, chasing them away so that their hometown hero can heal in peace.

What hurts the most is the cries of his mother and sister, who hug him and don’t really let go for the first week he’s there. They all do a lot of crying but it's the lightest Yuuri has felt since the accident. 

Yuuri doesn’t ask but he knows that his whole family must have watched the accident live on television. That might be what hurts him the most, that uncertainty and fear they must have had to live with for hours before Victor had been able to call them and say that he was going to be okay. Everyone Yuuri knows, and millions of people that he doesn’t, have seen the video. It’s trending all over the internet still, weeks later. No one really asks about it but he can feel the weight of their stares on his neck, to the vivid white flash of still healing flesh. 

Victor buys him all sorts of different scarves. Every morning when they dress Victor wraps a scarf around Yuuri’s neck, matching whatever that day's outfit is. Victor never says anything about it, just wraps him up so he’ll be comfortable around people, kisses his forehead and lets them start their morning. It makes each day a little easier.

The nights are much worse. Yuuri had hoped that returning home would hold the nightmares at bay but they just keep coming. He wakes on choked screams, the feel of blood gushing around him. Victor holds him tightly, rubs his back and kisses him but is helpless until Yuuri is able to calm enough to sleep again. 

They simply exist.

 

***

 

“Phichit is worried about you.”

Yuuri ducks his nose down into his scarf, curling tight around his knees. 

“Yuuri my love, you need to call him. He’s been texting me endlessly for days.”

“What did you say to him?” Yuuri mumbles, not looking up at his husband.

“I told him that you’re okay, doing as well as you can be.” Victor rubs his face before carefully approaching. The spring air is warm and the cherry blossoms are blooming. Makkachin bounces around them, chasing the fluttering petals. “Yuuri,” Victor whispers as he sits next to the younger man. 

Yuuri doesn’t lift his head, even when Victor reaches out to gently stroke his hair.

“Yuuri please look at me.”

Slowly Yuuri raises his head some, peaking up at Victor’s shimmering blue eyes. There are tears there again. “Why are you crying?”

“I have to ask you a question and- and I might hate the answer but I want you to answer me honestly anyways. No matter what Yuuri.”

Yuuri frowns, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What?”

Victor cups his cheek, stroking his thumb under Yuuri’s eye, along his cheekbone, down his nose. “Do you want me to leave?”

The world feels like it’s plummeting out from under Yuuri’s feet at the question, ears buzzing as Victor talks. 

“It was my fault what happened, completely my fault and I know you’ve watched the videos even though I wanted so much to spare you from that. If you can’t stand to be around me anymore I would understand, if I’m only causing you more pain…” Victor’s lip is trembling, he looks like he’s barely holding it together as he speaks. “If you want to divorce me I would never blame you for that choice. I just don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Shut up,” Yuuri whispers, voice hoarse. “Don’t… please don’t… I can’t survive this without you here.” He’s crying again, Yuuri is so sick of crying all the time but he can’t stop the tears that are always dripping down his cheeks. He’s completely pathetic. “Please don’t abandon me, I’m not strong enough to live without you…” He’s sobbing, hysterical noises falling from his lips. He wants to reach up and claw at his scar, the whole reason Victor wants to leave but Victor’s fingers catch his own and pull them to a warm chest.

“Yuuri, Yuuri shh calm down,” Victor whispers, holding him tight. “Listen to my heart, take a deep breath with me.”

Makkachin whines and licks at his cheeks.

Yuuri breaths with Victor, air rattling loudly in his lungs as he cries and clings to the man in front of him. It feels like his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest but the hands holding his don’t leave, the lips pressing kisses to his hair don’t pull back and the gentle russian voice keeps whispering soothing sounds until finally his heartbeat steadies and the tears slow, they don’t stop but at this point Yuuri is pretty sure they’re never going to.

“Please Victor…”

“Shh.” Victor rubs a hand up and down Yuuri’s back. “I didn’t mean to upset you my love. I’m completely useless at taking care of people, I always just seem to hurt you more. I was trying to avoid doing that and ended up making it worse, again.” Victor gives a dark, humorless chuckle above him. “It seems that that is all I’m good at.”

Yuuri’s heart gives a painful tug and he pulls away enough to look at Victor. “Do you…” Yuuri swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. “Do you still love me?” he whispers, eyes dropping from Victor’s face when the man looks at him in startled shock. He’s ready to be rejected, to be tossed aside because he’s been miserable to deal with these last two months. It wouldn’t really be anyone but Yuuri’s own fault if Victor wanted to be done.

Warm hands grasp his cheeks and then Yuuri’s being pulled into a harsh kiss. It's the first time they’ve kissed since the accident and it isn’t soft or gentle. Victor is devouring him, pouring everything he feels into Yuuri and demanding his answer. Yuuri’s hands bury themselves into Victor’s silver hair, curling into fists to anchor himself against the man. When they finally break apart, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, it’s the most alive Yuuri has felt in a long time.

“I will never stop loving you,” Victor growls and Yuuri’s eyes dart back up to his husband’s face, startled at the harshness of his voice. “Do not ever doubt that Yuuri. I will love you for as long as I live, whether you keep me in your life or not, my love for you will never change.”

Tears spring to his eyes again as Yuuri presses their foreheads together. “I won’t ever stop loving you either,” he whispers. “Please don’t leave me behind, I’m not strong unless you’re with me.”

“You’re plenty strong on your own my Yuuri,” Victor breathes, cradling Yuuri’s face. His lips pepper kisses across tear soaked cheeks. “The strongest man I’ve ever known, but I promise I will stay right here, right by your side. Forever.”

“Forever,” Yuuri repeats and finally, he feels a little bit lighter.

 

***

 

His skates are heavy in his hands and the ice that stares back at him, cold and unfeeling, has frozen the breath in his lungs solid. He can’t move, he can’t breath.

“Yuuri?” Victor rubs a hand across his shoulder blades. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Ice Castle used to be his safe haven, where Yuuri could go for hours on end and hide from the rest of his problems. He could skate in peace and feel alive but now the mere thought of getting back onto the frozen surface is filling him with anxiety and dread. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to skate.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he whispers, hurrying forward to sit down on one of the cold benches. “I’m fine.”

Victor follows, his steps echoing in the quiet of the rink. They’re the only ones here, even Yuuko has made herself scarce so they can skate in peace. Except the last thing that Yuuri feels is peaceful. He has his skates on and tied before Victor can even finish pulling his out of his skating bag. Yuuri pushes past him and steps onto the ice. He wants to say something, maybe plead for them to go back home but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, heavy and unresponsive. With equally heavy limbs he pushes off, skating slow circles around the rink. 

For a moment it doesn’t feel so bad. Maybe he can do this, start skating again without the fear of the past coming to swallow him up. It lasts for only a second and then Victor is getting on the ice next to him and Yuuri is tense all over, starting to hyperventilate.

It isn’t Victor’s fault, it was an accident. He can’t be mad at his husband for something that neither of them could have predicted happening. It isn’t Victor’s fault. Yuuri repeats it silently in his head, over and over again. There’s the familiar noise of his blades cutting through the ice as he spins away from Victor, keeping him at the opposite side of the rink. Away and safe, he just needs a minute to breath. If he just gives himself a minute to stop being so irrational.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Victor, just skating slowly after Yuuri. He isn’t doing anything, just watching, but the light catches on his skate blades, flashing gold and suddenly they aren’t there in Hatsetsu anymore, they’re back in Russia and he’s bleeding on the ice. 

Yuuri drops, screaming. His knees hit the ice hard but already he’s tugging at the scarf that is wrapped loosely around his throat, which Victor had so lovingly wrapped around him this morning. He can’t breath, he can’t think. All Yuuri knows is that he’s drowning in blood, it’s everywhere in front of him, steaming against the cold of the ice. His fingers turn into claws, raking against his throat. He just wants to push the blood back into his body, to knit his skin back together but his fingers slip through every time. He’s soaking in it, dying without it.

Arms grab him and yank with so much force it hurts and then Victor is in his face, looking terrified again. His hands are holding Yuuri’s wrists so tightly there will likely be bruises there tomorrow, yanking them down hard every time Yuuri tries to pull them back up to his neck. 

“Leave me alone!” Yuuri hears himself scream, finally breaking away. He stumbles to the rink edge, throwing his skates off as quickly as he can. They go flying, hitting something with a dull thud but Yuuri is already running, not even bothering to find his shoes. He hears Victor behind him, yelling at him but he can’t stop. He can’t breath in the cold of the rink for a moment longer.

Makkachin is waiting by the front door for her masters to return and when Yuuri burst from the rink and through the front door the dog quickly follows, barking. Yuuri doesn’t watch where he’s running, just runs. The pavement is hard under his unprotected feet but he doesn’t stop, not even when he stumbles, palms scraping as they catch his fall. His knees are going to have bruises from all the impacts he’s taken today.

He and Makkachin end up on the sands of the beach, Yuuri’s chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His scarf whips around his head with the salty sea air. With a furious snarl he yanks it away, letting the wind take it. Makkachin barks but Yuuri doesn’t pay her any attention, his fingers are tracing his still healing flesh. The line on his throat is a bright white, he looks at it every morning, commits it to memory. It’s ugly, a constant reminder to everyone that looks at him about the accident, about what had happened, about how sorry they should feel for him. He wants it to go away. He wants it all to go away, the fear, the anger, the pain. Most of all he wants to be able to look at Victor and not have to hide.

Consciously he curls his fingers, willing himself to rip at the wound. Normally he doesn’t know he’s hurting himself but even subconsciously he must want this to end, if he does it without thinking. Victor can move on if he doesn’t have to worry about all of this anymore, if he doesn’t have to get up each day and help Yuuri do the simplest of tasks. It doesn’t even hurt when he pulls himself apart, Yuuri just stands there and stares at the ocean.

“Yuuri stop!”

Yuuri turns, brown eyes glazed as he takes in Victor’s terrified face. Makkachin is running besides him, she must have gone to find him at some point to lead him back here. Yuuri should be impressed with how smart their poodle is but he’s only annoyed. He can’t just be free for a few minutes.

Victor runs to him, grabs his hands like has become such a common thing between them now. Yuuri wants to scream, he might be screaming if the bewildered, terrified look on Victor’s face is anything to go by.

“Yuuri…?”

“I can’t skate with you anymore!” Yuuri screams, trying to pull away. Their entire relationship has been based around them skating together. First with Victor being his very inspiration, then with them skating together as teacher and student and finally skating as partners, as equals. What would their lives be without skating? Skating was Victor’s entire life, it had been Yuuri’s entire life too. Now he’s stolen that away from them, washing it away in a cascade of red.

“I don’t care, dammit Yuuri! I don’t care if I never skate again!” Victor’s hold on his wrists lessen and then his hands slip, his entire body crumpling as Victor falls to his knees. Weakly his hands hold Yuuri’s pant legs. His head is bowed, his shoulders shivering. “I cannot live without you. Skating I can give up but you Yuuri, my life, my whole existence, you I cannot live without. You begged me to not leave you behind, but now I’m asking the same thing. Please, please don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“I…” Blood is dripping from his chin and throat, slipping down his chest and falling into Victor’s silver hair. “Victor I don’t know how to let it go. I can’t stop seeing it, feeling it. I see it every day when I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t stop seeing your face when it happened, I can’t stop seeing how you look at it every time you think I’m not looking at you.” Yuuri’s crying again but his voice doesn’t falter. “I can’t skate anymore, I can’t forget it.”

“Don’t skate,” Victor whispers desperately. “We don’t need to skate, we don’t need anything but each other. Leave it on the ice Yuuri, let the ice have the memory and we’ll never go back to it ever again. If that’s what it takes it’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make.”

“But you love skating. You…” Yuuri shakes his head, small red droplets flinging to each side. 

Victor laughs, voice weak. “I love you more. I thought you would know that by now.”

Yuuri sinks into the sand, staring at Victor’s face. The man is crying, because of Yuuri again, but Victor still carefully picks up each of Yuuri’s hands and kisses his scraped up palms. 

“I’m begging you Yuuri. Let me help.”

All Yuuri can do is give a small, tired nod. He can’t fight anymore, there isn’t anything left in him. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Victor repeats just as quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

When Victor had first seen Yuuri skate he’d felt that deep spark of inspiration that had been missing from his life for too long. It didn’t feel unusual to find inspiration from watching another skater, they were performers after all. It had been in the way that Yuuri had made music with the flow of his body and the sharp turn of his skates. He had wanted to see it in person. A lot of it probably also had to do with his desperation to meet Yuuri again, to see if that spark he had felt when they had danced together at the banquet had been something real. 

Yuuri had ended up being that and so much more. As Victor had coached him, pushed him, he’d realized just how badly he wanted to skate with Yuuri. Skating had always been his passion and it was Yuuri’s passion as well and while they found many, many other things that they could also be passionate about together skating always seemed like the one thing that they could share without having to think. 

Skating pairs had come easy to them.

In a lot of ways Victor wished he had found pairs skating years earlier, but only with Yuuri. Only ever with Yuuri. It was always fun when they took to the ice together, whether they were in practice or in a competition. It didn’t matter where they were performing because they were doing it together, a performance for one another before it was for any audience. 

Victor knew he was overly dramatic most of the time, a trait that Yuuri put up with but also seemed quite fond of so Victor didn’t feel too badly when he pushed for them to go through one more season of training to get back to the Grand Prix Final. That could be their last official skate together before they retired, bring them full circle to the one event that had helped them finally find each other.

In Victor’s very unbiased opinion, their routine is a true thing of beauty. It will be the last thing they do on the ice together and it is perfect. 

Nothing can go wrong. 

Except that it does.

He isn’t really sure how he gets so close during their spins. Maybe he had over rotated coming back from tossing Yuuri into a quad flip and swinging around to meet him again. Maybe he had just been over eager and lost his focus. It doesn’t really matter how it happens, just that it does. Victor can feel it the moment his skate makes contact with something in a place that there should only be air. He jerks up, twisting his head to try and see as his body keeps moving. He catches Yuuri’s eyes, wide as his body keeps moving a half turn more before he’s going down like a pile of bricks. 

There is blood everywhere on the ice. Victor doesn’t even know what he’s cut until he drops to Yuuri’s side and turns him. Through Yuuri’s fingers the laceration his skate caused is clearly visible, deep and gushing blood down the pale skin of the japanese man. Victor isn’t even aware that he’s moved until he has his own hands pressed over Yuuri’s, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. 

“Get out of the way Victor!” Yakov barks, shoving him back so hard he falls on his ass.

Victor feels his hand stick to the ice as he tries to surge back toward Yuuri, leaving bloody handprints all around him. The only thing that matters is getting back to Yuuri’s side, he has to stop the bleeding, he has to do something. That’s his husband, he can’t just sit here.

“Victor let Yakov handle it!” Yurio is on him, holding him back. His skates dig holes into the ice, forcing Victor to stay in his place. The strangled noises must be coming from his own throat because the only thing that comes from Yuuri’s is pained, wheezing gasps.

“Let me go, I have to- I can’t-” Victor doesn’t know what he’s going to do, doesn’t know what he can do.

Yakov is yanking Yuuri up, his husband’s eyes dull and unseeing. Yuuri can hardly move his own legs as Yakov practically drags him off the ice. His coach’s hand is wrapped tight around Yuuri’s throat, almost like he’s choking the younger skater. The blood that rains down Yakov’s arm dispels the image quickly enough.

Yurio lets him up and Victor follows, stumbling across the ice to get off of it. He doesn’t fall on ice, he’s Victor Nikiforov. Ice is more natural to him than solid ground. Yet he falls twice, watching in horror as each time he scrambles up there are more bloody prints left in his wake.

His fingers don’t work when he falls through the boards, trying to yank his skates off. Yakov and the medics are getting farther and farther away with his Yuuri. He wants to run after them but he can’t balance, can’t think clear enough to remember how to untie a knot.

“Stop, let me.” Yuri is back at his side again, his own fingers swift as they yank the laces through the eyelets, pulling Victor’s skates until his feet pop free. Somehow his own skates are already off. “Get up. My grandpa will drive us.”

Victor stumbles after the younger Yuri, letting him direct and push Victor where he wants him to go. Somehow his skate jacket ends up over his shoulders as he’s pushed into the back of the tiniest car in existence.

They can’t arrive at the hospital fast enough and even then it takes them too long to actually locate Yakov. He’s standing in the emergency waiting room, it is oddly empty except for them. His face is grim, the blood still caked up his arms, sleeves rolled back. His eyes catch Victor’s as he approaches.

“Is he okay? Please Yakov, please don’t tell me he’s dead.” Victor is grabbing at his coach’s arm, eyes wild as he fights hysteria. 

“He’s in surgery Vitya.” Yakov’s voice lacks its usual venom, he sounds old and tired.

“But the pig will be fine right?” Yuri demands from behind him.

“He lost a lot of blood and the laceration caught the main artery. We have to wait to see,” Yakov says and doesn’t seem surprised when Victor collapses against him with trembling sobs that wrack his whole body. “Take a breath Victor, there is nothing you can do for Yuuri like this.” Yakov wraps an arm around Victor’s shoulders as he speaks anyways, fingers holding the back of his head as he cries.

They wait for what must be an eternity Victor thinks, a cold cup of coffee sitting besides him that Yuri had brought after the first twenty minutes had dragged by. The younger skater can’t sit still and has been around the entire waiting room three times.

“Mr. Feltsman,” a doctor says as he approaches the small group.

Victor leaps up to stand by Yakov, quickly introducing himself as Yuuri’s husband. “Is he..?” He can’t make himself utter the words dead when the doctor might have that very news. The very idea that Yuuri wouldn’t make it isn’t something he’s able to think about, able to process at all.

“We repaired the damage done and closed the laceration, he received quite a few stitches and we’re giving him a blood transfusion as we speak. I can’t say anything with certainty for now, we’re going to monitor him through the night to make sure he’s in the clear but it’s looking positive. If you hadn’t pinched the vessels so quickly and kept it like that on the way here Mr. Feltsman we would be having a very different conversation right now.”

Yakov nods but says nothing to acknowledge that fact that he saved Yuuri’s life. Victor can’t move, can’t believe that this is somehow his reality. The words tossed so casually at the end, that they would be having a very different conversation right now if Yakov hadn’t of done what he had done, they bounce around and echo in Victor’s brain only gaining in volume as he thinks about them. If Yakov had responded any slower, hadn’t been there, hadn’t of known what he was doing there wouldn’t be a Yuuri right now. Yuuri would be dead and Victor would have killed him. He would have killed his husband, the love of his life, the only reason he has to live.

Victor tumbles forward with a pained gasp.

“Yo Victor, keep it together. Your pig is going to live okay?” Yuri hisses, catching Victor as he falls and holding him against his side as they kneel on the floor. “It’s going to be okay now.”  
Victor can only crumble into Yurio’s side, clutching tightly at the younger Russian’s jacket. He can hear how tough Yuri is trying to be for his sake, trying to keep the fear and anxiety out of his voice. It must have shaken him too, to see his friend like that. What must he be thinking right now, holding the man that had done that to Yuuri?

“Yura go with your grandfather to find yourself some food,” Yakov orders. He pulls Victor up and against him. “Hush now Victor, you’re making a scene.” Without waiting Yakov steers them down the hall and away from the waiting room. The room they’ve put Yuuri in is a private one, tucked into the back corner of a dark hospital hallway where there is less traffic from the nurses and doctors.

The sight that awaits them turns Victor’s stomach and seers itself into the back of his eyelids. He will see this for the rest of his pathetic life, the lifeless, pale form of his husband, stretched out on the hospital bed, an IV in his arm for fluids, a blood transfusion and whatever drugs are keeping him unconscious. The gauze is wrapped all around Yuuri’s neck but is tinted with pink in many spots where the bleeding hasn’t stopped fully.

“Yakov I…” I almost killed my husband Victor can’t force himself to say. 

“Don’t say it Vitya.” Yakov pulls a chair next to the bed and forces the man into it. “Victor look at me,” Yakov orders and Victor turns, watery blue eyes looking up at the man. “You cannot blame yourself for an accident. You are going to have to take care of Yuuri when he wakes up, you’re going to have to be strong. Put that thought out of your head immediately.”

Victor gives a weak nod, taking Yuuri’s hand gently in his. His thumb rubs over the pale knuckles. “Thank you Yakov… for all you did today.”

Yakov puts his hand on Victor’s head, letting it rest their briefly in a silent show of comfort. “I’m going to go wash up. I’ll bring you food and you’ll eat, there isn’t any point of you making yourself sick while you wait.”

Victor doesn’t move when Yakov disappears; he doesn’t look up when Yuri returns either. The young Russian skater flops into a chair on the opposite side of the bed, kicking his feet up on the guard rail.

“Yo, old man. He’s gonna be okay,” Yuri grumbles, tugging his hood up over his blond hair, hiding his face in shadows. “That pig is the most stubborn person I know. He isn’t just gonna leave your whiney ass behind.”

He may or may not start to cry some at Yuri’s strange form of comfort, leaning to kiss his Yuuri’s knuckles in the dim light of the hospital room. “Spasibo Yuratchka.”

 

***

 

Yakov and Yuri stay the night until Yuuri’s condition stabilizes; Victor has never been more grateful to have someone around, even if they don’t talk much having someone else there grounds him in reality.

“I’m taking Yuri home. I’ll come back with a change of clothes for you and Yuuri, he’ll need something for when they discharge him,” Yakov says, his hand on Victor’s shoulder. “Call if you need me Victor.”

Victor nods. He hadn’t even really noticed he was still in his skating out, he has no idea what happened to Yuuri’s. It doesn’t really matter, Victor isn’t sure he will ever be able to put the costume back on without having terrible flashbacks to what happened while he was wearing it. He’s sure Yuuri will probably feel the same. Thinking about what Yuuri might or might not want, with how unstable everything has felt in the last 24 hours, makes Victor sick with anxiety. 

Thankfully Yakov shows back up with clothing for him and for just a minute Victor escapes to the bathroom to change. He washes the blood from his hands and arms, splashing water on his face to try and revitalize himself. He feels so old, like this one night has aged him fifty years. The clothes are just some of his simple workout pieces, but they’re the comfy ones that he prefers and Victor’s heart clenches just the tiniest bit at how much attention Yakov had paid to the simple task of just bringing him clothes.

Opening the bathroom door Victor pulls to an abrupt stop. Yakov is standing by Yuuri’s bedside, holding the young skaters hand. He’s mumbling some very soft, but still very angry, Russian at the Japanese man and Victor’s heart clenches again.

“Don’t just stand there like a damned fool Vitya,” Yakov snaps after a minute, not turning toward his student.

Victor comes back, sinking into his chair by the bed. “Are you headed out?”

Yakov gives a gruff nod. “Just call Vitya.”

Victor nods and briefly grabs Yakov’s arm as he passes, giving it a firm squeeze in thanks. He isn’t sure how he would have survived without Yakov here.

When Yakov leaves it’s quiet, the heart monitor the only real noise that Victor focuses on. It’s steady, a reminder that his Yuuri is going to be okay. The breath that pulls in and out of the other is soft but also strong. Yuuri isn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon at least and that is comforting enough that Victor allows himself to slump against the bed and drift in a light doze.

He wakes to something sliding along his hand, squeezing his fingers.

“Victor.”

Sleep is slow to release its hold, Victor’s head feels like it might be stuffed full of cotton but as he raises his head, and oh sleeping in this position has left the most painful kink in his neck, he finds Yuuri’s brown eyes open and staring at him. It takes a full ten seconds for Victor to realize that his Yuuri’s eyes are actually open, awake and staring at him.

“Yuuri!” he gasps and leaps up, the chair falling back in his rush to leave it. “Oh my god. Hold on, I’m going to grab a nurse!” Victor runs from the hospital room, looking desperately around for their nurse, any nurse. He grabs the first person he sees, a young man in green scrubs. “My husband is awake!” he squawks and that most certainly can’t be his own voice because he sounds ridiculous.

The nurse follows him back to the hospital room and they find Yuuri’s heart monitor going wild. Yuuri is contorted around himself weakly, breathing ragged as he makes the most terrifying cry of despair.

Victor drops to his side, his hands gentle as they lay down on the clammy skin of Yuuri’s arm. “Yuuri! Yuuri, baby focus on me,” Victor begs, heart clenching at how massive the panic attack Yuuri has trapped himself in is.

“I’m going to give him a sedative, he’s going to injure himself further if he doesn’t calm down,” the nurse says, injecting something straight into Yuuri’s IV line. The nurse is holding Yuuri’s wrist tightly to keep him from thrashing away but that only seems to be making the Japanese man fight harder. Whatever terror Yuuri is fighting against, Victor can do nothing to help. He can only sit and wait, watching as the drug kicks in and Yuuri is dragged back into unconsciousness. The sight is anything but comforting.

 

***

 

It’s only a few hours before Yuuri wakes up again and this time Victor is awake. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Yuuri since he went back under, terrified that if he moves even for a minute he’ll miss a twitch of pain, or a hiccup of fear. Relief floods him when those brown eyes flicker open again, staring straight at the wall in dazed confusion.

“Yuuri.”

When Yuuri turns toward him Victor could almost burst into tears just from that. He looks exhausted, skin pale and sunken eyes glazed some from the drugs flowing in his veins but alive; Yuuri looks so very much alive.

“Victor…”

The need to cry triples and he can feel his lip trembling hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. Hearing Yuuri’s voice is the sweetest thing in the world. “Oh thank god,” he breaths and lifts his hand up to cup Yuuri’s cheek. “Yuuri how do you feel? Does anything hurt? Do you want the nurse?” He sounds panicked even to his own ears but the questions just keep falling from between his lips.

“Water?”

Victor scrambles up at the simple request. God he’s such an idiot, of course he should have had water right there and ready for when Yuuri awoke. His throat is probably dry. He slams the straw into the water cup, holding it carefully up for Yuuri to take a small sip. The simple action seems to drain the Japanese man and Victor is so tempted to run for the nurse again, he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“What happened?”

The question stops Victor short and he pales. “You don’t… remember?” His hand slides along the bed to wrap around Yuuri’s hand, his own heart beating so hard in his chest it hurts his ribs.

“I was bleeding,” Yuuri says.

This time when Victor’s lip trembles he can’t keep the flood of tears back that fill his eyes. “Yuuri I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, we were too close in our spins. I… my-” Victor pulls up short, voice wavering. He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to say it outloud, to admit to the horrible thing he had done. “My skate blade caught you. I… I severed your artery.” He’s crying full force now, hand clamped around Yuuri’s tight enough for his fingers to ache. He can’t let go no matter how much he likely should. “Yuuri, please, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri whispers. “It was an accident.”

The words feel like a saving grace, like Victor is a drowning man and he’s being pulled ashore. He wants to thank Yuuri, to fall on his knees and swear to protect him forever, to never hurt him like this ever again, to beg for forgiveness that was too quickly given because he most certainly doesn’t deserve to have Yuuri just forgive him, not that quickly, not after what he did.

Unfortunately the nurse and doctor arrive and Victor can voice none of this. He listens as they talk, about how his Yuuri is healing, about what they can expect in the coming days, the next few weeks, how to watch for infection, how to clean around the wound. Victor listens because Yuuri’s Russian is still weak and he looks like he’s disappeared into his own head again so Victor listens with as much attention as his sleep deprived brain can muster. For the most part he thinks he has it down. He’ll go over it three more times with the nurse before they discharge Yuuri because Victor can’t afford to make any more mistakes, not ever again.

 

***

 

When Yuuri’s sleeping next Victor pulls himself up from the chair he’s been glued into for the last day and a half. He’s been putting it off for the last hour but he knows he has to make the difficult call to Yuuri’s family. It’s completely unlikely that they wouldn’t have been watching Yuuri’s last skate of his career and so they must have seen the accident on TV. And Victor, horrible, terrible person that he is, has kept them waiting for almost 48 hours without any news on their son.

The hallway is quiet and for the moment devoid of nurses so Victor can make the call in peace. 

“Victor?” 

The phone had hardly rang once before it had been picked up, startling Victor into silence for a moment.

“Victor?” Hiroko asks again, voice desperate.

“Ah, yes.” Victor shifts from foot to foot nervously. He’s terrible at dealing with people, especially when they’re sad or crying and he has no doubt that Hiroko is already one and about to do the other. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call… I’m sure you saw-”

“Is he okay?!”

Victor swallows around the lump that is lodged in his throat. “He’s stable, yes.” Okay was a statement that was probably pushing it but they hadn’t really talked much so Victor really had no clue how Yuuri was actually feeling.

Hiroko breaks down at the words anyways and for a while Victor just listens to her cry, uncomfortable because he has no idea what to say to the woman that had basically taken him in as her second son. I’m sorry I almost murdered your child and the man I love just didn’t really cut it as far as apologies went.

He hears the Katsuki’s talking in rapid Japanese, probably quickly passing the news around that Yuuri is okay but his Japanese still isn’t good enough to keep up with fast paced conversations.

“Can I talk with him?”

“Ah, no, he’s sleeping…” Victor mumbles.

Hiroko sniffs. “That’s okay, I don’t want to disturb him.”

“When he wakes up though I’ll tell him,” Victor offers.

“Thank you Vicchan,” Hiroko says and he can almost hear the soft smile in her voice. “Are you doing okay?”

That does it and Victor is crying again, curling into the corner of the hospital hallway because how can she ask how he’s doing when he almost killed Yuuri not more than a day ago? “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t be the one that’s upset, it’s so stupid.”

“No it’s not. I know you’d never do anything to hurt Yuuri on purpose. It was just a horrible accident.” She shushes him, calms him down enough to stop crying. They part with her telling him to get some sleep and call her again when he can. Nothing Victor has ever done in this life makes him deserving of the family he’s been so readily accepted into. Now even less so.

He goes back into the hospital room, grateful that Yuuri is still sound asleep. It wouldn’t do him any good to have to wake up to have to comfort Victor all over again.

 

***

 

When Yuuri is able to stay awake for longer periods of time it’s harder for Victor to justify staying away for more than a couple of minutes. Even running to the bathroom feels like he’s abandoning the younger man. When he comes back out from doing just that, as quickly as was humanly possible, he finds Yuuri clutching at his medical file.

“Hey.”

The air is tense between them as Yuuri’s eyes shoot up to meet his. It looks like Yuuri so badly wants to ask a question, like his very life depends on it but he can’t make himself ask.

“Yuuri, baby, talk to me.” Victor comes back to the chair that has been his home for three days and takes Yuuri’s hands from the papers he’s holding. They’ve gone white from their tight hold and Victor very carefully massages life back into them.

“Do my parents know?”  
“I… called them myself.” He isn’t really sure if what he did qualifies as telling them, but he had called even if Hiroko had done most of the comforting. The memory makes his throat tight and he swallows.

“I want to call them.”

“Of course.” Victor drops Yuuri’s hand, digging madly for his phone in his skate jacket. “I’m sorry I should have thought of that myself.” He offers out the cell phone, watching Yuuri call. It doesn’t answer as quickly as when Victor rang but then it’s also the middle of the night in Hatsetsu.

“Momma it’s me,” Yuuri says and Victor can’t hear her on the other side of the line but he knows she must be crying because suddenly Yuuri is crying too. This is the worst part Victor decides, adding it to the ever growing list of new worst parts of this entire experience, listening to Yuuri cry and being unable to do anything to make him feel better. He runs his hand up and down Yuuri’s thigh in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for scaring you and Papa and Mari. I-” Yuuri is choking on sobs, shaking like a leaf and the words fall from his mouth, like this is somehow his fault and not Victor’s. Victor feels like he’s breaking right in two. Suddenly he’s up, shoving his way onto the tiny hospital bed to pull his husband as close to his chest as physically possible. “I’m sorry Mama,” Yuuri cries into Victor’s chest and Victor wraps his arms tighter. 

Crying wears Yuuri down, it always has, but now it saps what little energy he has and soon enough the phone is slipping from his fingers and his eyes are drifting shut. 

“I love you Mama.”

Victor plucks the phone up making sure to cradle Yuuri’s head gently against him. “Hiroko,” he says softly so she knows he’s taken the phone. “Sorry, he’s falling asleep.” She’s much calmer than last time they spoke and at the moment, Victor is too. “He’s doing much better today. We’re being discharged soon. Of course I will call you with updates,” he says, watching how Yuuri’s chest falls up and down as he sleeps. His eyelids tremble, flutter, as he dreams and Victor hopes they are good dreams. He prays that they are good dreams because Yuuri has suffered enough already.

 

***

 

Yakov is true to his word and comes to pick them up from the hospital when they are discharged. Unfortunately the press, which have been camped outside for days, go insane. 

“Just stay right by me,” Victor whispers, carefully pulling one of his baggy sweatshirts over Yuuri’s head. It falls around his shoulders, burying the Japanese man in soft fabric that he can pull back inside of.

When Yakov meets them outside their room he gives Victor a stiff nod and gives Yuuri a squeeze on his shoulder. If Victor didn’t know the man as well as he did he would have completely missed how emotional Yakov clearly is over seeing Yuuri up on his feet again. It’s enough to make Victor want to cry. Except there were more important things to deal with right now, like getting Yuuri out of the hospital without the press devouring him.

Yuuri had hated the press before the accident, he was too shy of a man to put up with so many people watching him, so Victor knows this time it must be eating him alive inside. The media swarms around them, cameras flashing and demanding answers to questions neither of them want to answer or know how to. The car ride is silent, tense and painful. Yuuri has buried himself inside of his hoodie, refusing to look at either himself or Yakov. The only consolation Victor really has is that Yuuri’s hand doesn’t leave his for the entire trip.

Makkachin greets them at the door, curling around Yuuri like the protective and beautiful dog she is. Victor watches Yuuri wander toward their bedroom, how he sways some on his feet but Makkachin makes sure he has something to lean on.

“Call me if you need anything Vitya.”

Victor turns to Yakov, dragging the older man into a hug. “Thank you for everything and for taking care of Makkachin while I was at the hospital.”  
“It was nothing Victor,” Yakov dismisses, huffing.

“It isn’t nothing to me,” Victor promises, wiping at the dampness that appears in his eyes.

“Take care of that boy,” Yakov says instead of acknowledging the heavy feelings that hang between them. “And call Vitya.”

“I will,” Victor promises, showing Yakov out. When the door is shut and locked, Victor turns back to the apartment. He feels like he hasn’t been home for ages. It feels too quiet, too big. After everything that has happened how can he come back in here, bring Yuuri back in here and go back to how they had lived so peacefully? Will they still get up and make breakfast together? Will they still race to the front door after their morning jog? Will he still be allowed to wash Yuuri’s hair for him in the shower before he pushes Yuuri into the wall, attacking him with kisses? Will Yuuri even want any of that with him anymore?

Makkachin whines from the doorway to the bedroom, drawing Victor from his darkening thoughts. The poodle is panting, her feet dancing with agitation as she looks back toward the bathroom and then back at Victor pointidly.

Victor heads into the bedroom, noting the clothing that litter the floor as he walks. The light in the bathroom is on so he enters, gasping as he takes in Yuuri. Or more accurately, he takes in the angry red line that now bisects the left side of Yuuri’s throat, now bared for the world to see. The bandage lays on the floor, forgotten and Yuuri’s hand which had been tracing along the wound falls limply to hang at his side.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice sounds weak even in his own ears but his heart is racing a million miles a second and he can’t breath around how much it hurts to see the damage he’s done. He takes only a few steps forward, bringing him to Yuuri’s side where he reaches for Yuuri’s hand, holding onto them tightly to ground himself. He should look at Yuuri’s face or start a bath, anything but stare like he is at the laceration. “Yuuri… I- I am so sorry,” Victor whispers and he knows he’s already said it a million times but he is, he means each and every apology that falls out of his mouth. 

Yuuri doesn’t answer him and Victor lets his head fall forward, forehead connecting with Yuuri’s shoulder as he cries. He tries to make himself be quiet, Yuuri doesn’t deserve to have to listen to him because Yuuri’s the one that’s hurt, what right does he have to be crying right now?

Victor startles when he feels fingers thread through the hairs at the back of his head, just holding him in place, letting him cry. Fingers stroke gently over the base of his skull and Victor cries harder because Yuuri, beautiful selfless Yuuri, who almost died because of him four days ago is comforting his completely useless husband. What Victor ever did to deserve this sort of kindness he will never know.

“Victor, I really want to shower,” Yuuri finally mumbles and Victor realizes that they have been standing in the bathroom for quite some time now and Yuuri is completely naked so he is probably freezing cold. Victor curses himself again because only an ass almost kills their spouse and then makes them stand naked and freezing in their own bathroom.

“Of course. Of course, yes.” He sounds like an idiot to his own ears. “But you can’t get the stitches wet so you’re going to have to sit in the tub. I… could sit with you?” Victor offers. Normally they would always take baths together but Victor also doesn’t want to force Yuuri to be around him if he doesn’t want to be.

“I’d like that.”

Three little words have never made Victor feel more alive.

Victor hurries to fill up the tub, offering Yuuri his hand to help him into the warm water. The water laps along Yuuri’s skin as he curls around his knees, trying to protect himself. Victor crawls in behind him, hesitant to touch. Yuuri always withdraws inward when he wants to keep himself from getting hurt and Victor is hesitant to push the fragile boundaries that he’s put up around himself to protect his gentle heart. Reaching for a washcloth Victor soaks it in the water before raising it to Yuuri’s skin. Carefully he runs it along Yuuri’s back, ticking along each part of his spine, curling it around his side ever so careful not to tickle the sensitive skin and then back along his leg. Victor repeats the action to the other side of Yuuri’s body, watching his husband’s head nod as he fights to stay awake. When he lets himself fall back into Victor’s chest, Victor thinks he might cry from happiness. Instead he lifts Yuuri out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around his shoulders, patting him dry. The sheets are fresh, Yakov must have changed those too, bless the angry old man for thinking of everything. As soon as he has Yuuri settled on the bed Makkachin is right back at his side, allowing Yuuri to curl into her fur. He’s asleep in seconds, mouth slightly open as he snores.

Victor sits down on the edge of the bed, petting a hand up and down Yuuri’s blanket covered thigh. Like this, in the quiet and dim light of their bedroom, Victor can almost pretend this is a normal evening between them. Except the flesh along Yuuri’s neck is bright red, the stitches standing out against the light color of his skin. It kills the warm buzz that the bath had left in Victor’s chest. Nothing he does now is ever going to make up for what he did on the ice that day. How Yuuri lets him get close now is a mystery to Victor. He doesn’t deserve it, will never deserve Yuuri’s love or forgiveness again.

 

***

 

Their daily routines completely change. Victor had expected that on some level but he has a hard time adjusting anyways. Instead of their morning jog and nightly walk that they had always taken together, Victor takes Makkachin out alone, before Yuuri wakes up. He showers alone, prepares meals alone. Not even Makkachin is around, she lays with Yuuri no matter where he is in the house though most days he lays in bed for hours until Victor drags him out to eat something. Which is a task each and every day because Yuuri’s appetite seems to have vanished.

“Yuuri, love, you need to eat something,” Victor begs. Yuuri does eat when prompted but even then Yuuri only goes through the motions of whatever Victor asks of him. He eats when Victor puts food in front of him, he baths when Victor asks, he curls into Victor’s chest if Victor opens his arms to hug his husband.

The nightmares are the worst. Every night without fail Yuuri wakes crying, struggling to escape whatever it is that is chasing him in his nightmares. He bends and twists in Victor’s arms until he wears himself into exhaustion again. They usually revisit the problem a few hours later. Most nights Victor sleeps less than Yuuri, just watching his husband in the quiet of the dark trying to think of all the ways that he can fix the situation.

Victor doesn’t know what to do.

He hasn’t come up with anything long term but keeping Yuuri away from social media has helped a little. The media has flocked to them, smelling the blood in the water. The videos appearing online are worse. Chris texts him whenever something really bad shows up, telling him to leave it alone but it’s like a scab Victor can’t help but pick. He’s the reason Yuuri’s broken down, shouldn’t he have to pay justice and suffer as much as his husband is? Watching the videos of his sins doesn’t change what happened but at least Victor won’t forget what he did.

Absently Victor stirs at the soup they’re having for lunch. Chris has been the only steady thing Victor’s been able to rely on when he feels like he might be going crazy in the middle of the night. He doesn’t offer up any answers but he listens when Victor needs to call and cry.

“Lunch is ready Yuuri,” Victor calls toward the living room, trying to make his voice more cheery than he feels. 

He grabs one bowl, feeding Yuuri is more important so Victor will eat his own later, and fills it with the warm tomato soup. He heads for the living room, forcing a smile for Yuuri’s sake until he hears the sound of their pair skate music. He can see just over the back of the couch, the video he’s seen a million times is playing and Yuuri is watching it.

“Yuuri!” Victor screams and the bowl falls from his hand because there is blood on Yuuri’s fingers as he claws at his own throat with despairing little whimpers. Victor doesn’t even notice the shattering of the bowl, already leaping the back of the couch to grab madly for his husband’s hands. “What are you doing? Yuuri look at me! What are you doing to yourself?” 

He shouldn’t scream, he knows that it’s only going to make things worse but he can’t stop himself. Yuuri’s brown eyes are glazed, unseeing. Without thinking Victor grabs the phone and chucks it across the room. He hears it crack and he doesn’t care because it’s the reason Yuuri is staring at him without really seeing. 

Those stupid videos, put up by all those heartless people who want to gain popularity from their pain, Victor wants to kill them. Without really meaning to he starts to sob, pulling Yuuri’s shirt up to press against the wound. He can’t go through this again, can’t watch Yuuri bleed out in front of him. 

They sit, Victor crying and Yuuri just staring until Victor is sure that most of the bleeding has stopped. There are thankfully only a few small scratches when Victor pulls the cloth back to check. Yuuri doesn’t move, doesn’t react to anything he does, just lets Victor drag him to his feet and to the bathroom. 

Victor tosses the blood stained shirt at the trashcan, furious as if it’s the shirts fault that Yuuri had clawed up his own body. He wets a rag with warm water and starts to clean the blood up, wiping slowly so he doesn’t hurt Yuuri further. “Yuuri,” Victor whispers, tilting Yuuri’s head up so they have to look at each other. “Yuuri why did you do this to yourself?” He has to know the answer, even if it’s going to hurt.

“How close was I to dying?”

It isn’t the answer Victor was expecting but then Yuuri never was anything he expected. “If Yakov hadn’t of been there, you wouldn’t be here.” The statement is painful, like his heart is being shredded in two but Yuuri only deserves the truth. If he decides to leave because of it, that will be nothing less than he deserves.

“Yakov?”

“He saved your life.” Victor watches the confusion pass across Yuuri’s face, brows furrowing some as he clearly tries to puzzle it out. “He pinched the artery closed long enough to get you off the ice and to the hospital,” Victor says. Yakov had needed to save Yuuri’s life, Victor wasn’t even good enough to do that for his husband. “He has medical knowledge from way back in his youth, some war or something.”

Victor waits for an answer of some sort, or maybe an accusation but nothing comes. Yuuri just stares at him. The silence beats against Victor’s soul, a testament to how little he can do for Yuuri. He grabs the other’s cheeks, cupping them like Yuuri is made of glass and presses their foreheads together. “Yuuri, I am so so sorry I hurt you,” Victor gasps because he needs Yuuri to know this, even if Yuuri throws him away in the end, he has to know how terribly sorry Victor is for everything that has happened. “I wish I could take it all back, redo everything over. I don’t know what I would do without you and I-”

“It’s okay.”

Yuuri always says this when Victor starts rambling his apologies but this time his hands come up and grasp at Victor’s shirt.

“You weren't trying to hurt me. I know that. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose. I’m not mad… I’m… scared.” 

The smile that accompanies this statement is a knife between Victor’s ribs and with each tear that slowly slides down Yuuri’s cheeks and with every new word uttered that knife twists itself deeper until it’s completely buried inside of Victor.

“It’s like I was watching it happen and I couldn’t do anything. It was so dark and so cold and I knew I had messed up our routine and I knew I was hurting you, I couldn’t do anything. I don’t even remember getting off the ice. I don’t remember anything but knowing that I only wanted to see you again and feeling like I never would. I was so scared. I’m still so scared.”

Victor drags Yuuri against his chest, letting his sobs melt into the soft fabric. “I’m sorry. I will never leave,” Victor says, voice unsteady with promise. “I’ll stay by your side for forever, for as long as you want me.” He’s crying too, can’t help it because he wants the statement to be more true than anything he’s ever promised. “I will do everything I can to make this right, anything to fix this.”

Yuuri clutches him and Victor clutches Yuuri. He doesn’t know if his words make it through, or if his promises even ring as more than just empty words to Yuuri but he says them anyways because Victor has never been more sure of anything in his life. He is going to try his best to find a way to fix this, he wants to make it so Yuuri can be happy again. Even if that means sacrificing his own happiness in the end.

 

***

 

Going outside was one of the worst ideas Victor could have suggested. He isn’t even sure why he thought it was a good idea to try but Yuuri was so pale and was losing so much weight, Victor had hoped that getting him in some sun and fresh air would bring a little bit of life back into his limbs. 

The media jumps them before they’re even all the way through the front doors of the apartment complex. They’re used to seeing Victor, they don’t bother to demand questions from him anymore but Yuuri they haven’t seen in two weeks and they want a story. They swarm at the Japanese man and Victor can see the panic, the wash of fear that tenses every muscle in that small body. He does the only thing he can think, he lets the anger simmering just beneath his surface burst out and he’s yelling at the reporters, cursing them because Yuuri is fleeing and it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have suggested the walk, he shouldn’t have suggested that they skate one more season, he shouldn’t have suggested they skate together in the first place. 

The anger feels good in his throat, harsh and strong screams to leave them alone and let them heal in peace. They aren’t even outlandish requests, Victor shouldn’t have to demand them because it should just be a common courtesy. 

When he goes back inside he finds Yuuri shoved as far into the corner of their bedroom as he can get. His eyes are wild, lost deep inside of his own head. His fingers run along the cut on his throat but they don’t pull like they did the other day and for that at least, Victor can be grateful. He doesn’t have much that he can be grateful for these days.

“Tell me what to do Yuuri, what do you want?” Victor asks, falling to his knees in front of his husband. He reaches for Yuuri’s hands, holding them gently in his own. If he can do something, anything, to make this easier for the other then Victor will do it.

“I want to go home,” Yuuri cries and pushes himself into Victor’s shoulder.

The request confuses him. “I don’t- we are home?” They’ve been home for some time, is Yuuri confused? Maybe something is wrong with his brain, maybe Victor did more damage than they originally realized. Maybe-

Suddenly it clicks. “Oh Yuuri my love of course,” Victor says, nodding. Of course Yuuri wants to go home, to Hatsetsu. This isn’t his home, they might have lived here together and maybe they were happy here once but this isn’t home. Victor feels like such an idiot. He shouldn’t have brought Yuuri back here at all, they should have gone to Japan right away. “I’ll book us flights tonight. It’s okay baby, shh. Of course we can go home.” Victor crushes Yuuri to his chest and lets him cry. 

He is an idiot, the biggest idiot to ever grace the planet. This whole time he was hurting Yuuri by keeping him here in this apartment and away from his home, his family. Victor has never loathed himself more than he does in that second.

 

***

 

Stepping off the plane and taking the train to Hatsetsu feels strangely reminiscent. It isn’t like they haven’t visited before but every time it feels like the first time Victor had come searching for Yuuri. The town is quiet, people wave and smile at Victor and it feels like coming home. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to bring Yuuri back here to begin with. 

Yuuri’s hand is clutched tightly in his own as they head up to the inn. Whatever his husband is thinking he doesn’t bother to share with Victor. He hasn’t shared much at all in the last few weeks.

When they enter Hiroko is there waiting, throwing her arms tightly around her son. They both start crying, clinging. Hiroko is muttering soft things in Japanese, Victor only catches pieces here and there. Love, precious, son, Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. The guilt eats a hole in Victor’s gut for selfishly having kept them apart for this long. When Mari takes her turn, wrapping around her little brother, smothering him in her arms until he’s almost disappeared, Hiroko turns to Victor and wraps him in a hug that he most definitely does not deserve. 

“Thank you Vicchan for bringing my baby home.”

Victor lays his head on her shoulder and cries quietly as well.

They stay close to Yuuri’s family the first week they are there and the familiarness of family and the warmth of the hot springs seem to at least help Yuuri’s mood some. He eats a little more frequently, though that might also have something to do with the pork cutlet bowls that Hiroko makes every night. 

Yuuri still despises going outside, the thought of people seeing him so exposed and on display terrifies him. While out for his daily morning walk with Makkachin, Victor happens upon a small shop selling all sorts of beautifully colored scarves and an idea strikes him. When Victor returns back, Yuuri is still curled under the covers of his bed.

“Yuuri my love,” Victor breaths, leaning to kiss the pale skin of his temple. He brushes the black hair back gently, smiling at the sleepy noise Yuuri makes while his brown eyes flutter open. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

Victor lays each scarf out on the bed, watching Yuuri’s face for a reaction. He simply stares at them for a while before looking up at Victor. “Are you ashamed?”

“No!” Victor gasps, reaching forward to curl his fingers against Yuuri’s cheek. “Never! I want you to be comfortable going outside and I know it bothers you. If you hate them I can bring them back or something,” he mumbles, trying to ignore how much more the little ball of guilt swells and claws through him.

Yuuri nuzzles into his hand unexpectedly and Victor turns his gaze back. “Thank you… for always thinking about me. Will you… pick one out for me?”

And just like that they have a new routine that Victor treasures more than anything else. Every morning when they dress and Victor finishes pulling Yuuri’s shirt over his head, watching his hair fall into his face he picks up a new scarf. He always chooses a new one from the massive pile he brought home and wraps it tenderly around Yuuri’s neck. Victor kisses his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks as he does, whispering how much he loves the other man. In the warm morning light that peeks through the curtains it feels more intimate than any sexual thing they’ve ever done.

Seeing the little smiles that tug at the corners of Yuuri’s lips as he touches the scarves, buries his nose in them through the day to hide, the safety he finds in the little bits of cloth are enough for Victor.

 

***

 

Yuuri hasn’t turned his phone on since the accident so all of their friends have to go through Victor to get any news on how Yuuri is. Victor also had to buy a new phone after he’d shattered his old one.

Phichit is the one texting him today. Yesterday it had been Yurio. Leo and Guang-Hong the day before. Mila the day before that. Even JJ has sent a few texts asking how Yuuri is. He talks to Yurio, Phichit and Chris the most. Yuri has been furiously demanding he be allowed to come and see his friend claiming that the pig can’t hide for forever. But Yuuri doesn’t even like being around his own friends and has only seen Yuuko and Minako a handful of times before he’d retreated into their bedroom to hide in Victor’s arms.

“Phichit is worried about you,” Victor tells Yuuri, watching the cherry blossoms dance around his head. The announcement just makes Yuuri hide his face in his scarf. Victor frowns. “Yuuri my love, you need to call him. He’s been texting me endlessly for days.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him you’re okay, doing as well as you can be,” Victor says. Yuuri won’t look at him and Victor rubs his face, unsure of how to make anything better for them, for Yuuri. He’d said quite a bit more to Phichit because he’s Yuuri’s best friend and knows best how Yuuri’s anxieties work. He’d desperately hoped that Phichit would have some sort of solution but he’d only told Victor to keep doing what he was doing and loving Yuuri. Easier said than done when your husband couldn’t even look at you most days. 

“Yuuri,” he tries, sitting down next to the man. Makkachin runs in circles around them, chasing the petals from the trees with excited barks. “Yuuri please look at me,” Victor says again when Yuuri doesn’t move. Victor can already feel the tears starting because he hurts, what he’s about to ask is going to hurt him more but he has to know. The idea has been nagging in the back of his brain since they’ve arrived here in Hatsetsu.

“Why are you crying?” Yuuri asks, sounding befuddled. 

“I have to ask you a question and-” Victor pulls in a shuddering breath, willing himself to stay strong. This is about Yuuri, not about him. It won’t ever be about him. “And I might hate the answer but I want you to answer me honestly anyways. No matter what Yuuri.”

“What?” Yuuri whispers, frowning at him. 

Victor wants to ease the wrinkles that form between Yuuri’s eyes. He reaches out tentatively, cupping his husband’s cheek and smooths his thumb under those beautiful brown eyes, across his strong cheekbones, down his adorable nose. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he whispers, heart clenching painfully at the question. When Yuuri doesn’t answer, just stares at him with wide eyes, Victor hurries to continue.

“It was my fault what happened, completely my fault and I know you’ve watched the videos even though I wanted so much to spare you from that. If you can’t stand to be around me anymore I would understand, if I’m only causing you more pain…” He’s rambling, can’t stop the words from spitting from his mouth even at the growing look of horror that comes across Yuuri’s face. He just has to get it all out, so that Yuuri knows it’s okay if he wants to leave. It will kill Victor but he just wants Yuuri to be okay, to do what is best for himself. He’s always so self sacrificing, he doesn’t have to be that way this time. “If you want to divorce me I would never blame you for that choice. I just don’t want to hurt you anymore.”  
“Shut up.”

Yuuri may whisper the words but Victor’s jaw snaps shut at the order. 

“Don’t… please don’t…”

Victor realizes to his horror that Yuuri is starting to cry again, big fat tears roll down his face as he struggles to speak. He’s made a mistake, he’s shattered Yuuri’s fragile heart. How many times will he continue to do this?

“I can’t survive this without you here. Please don’t abandon me, I’m not strong enough to live without you…” Yuuri sputters, struggling to breath and talk at the same time. His hands reach up for his scar, fingers hooked like claws. Victor catches them before they can get any closer.

“Yuuri, Yuuri shh calm down,” he whispers desperately, holding his husband’s smaller hands tightly in his own. “Listen to my heart, take a deep breath with me.” Makkachin bounces over, whining and she starts to lick at Yuuri’s cheeks.

Victor slows his breathing, deliberately taking long deep breaths before purposefully blowing them out until Yuuri’s breathing matches his own and the panic attack starts to pass. 

“Please Victor…”  
“Shh.” Victor rubs his hand up and down Yuuri’s back, not wanting the panic attack to start up again now that he’s gotten Yuuri’s breathing under control. “I didn’t mean to upset you my love. I’m completely useless at taking care of people.” It’s truly the biggest understatement of his life but now is not the time to point out his own horrid flaws.  “I always just seem to hurt you more. I was trying to avoid doing that and ended up making it worse, again.” He can’t help the dark chuckle that bubbles up through his lips. A total screw up in even trying to comfort the love of his life. “It seems that that is all I’m good at.”

When Yuuri starts to pull away Victor lets him go without a fight, examining Yuuri’s face. He watches Yuuri hesitate, eyes still red from all the crying. “Do you…” Yuuri’s voice is small, fragile as he forces himself to talk. “Do you still love me?”

Of all the questions Yuuri could have asked, this is simultaneously the worst thing that Yuuri can believe and the thing that destroys Victor. He knows he’s just staring, gaping at his husband but he doesn’t know how to answer. After two months of trying to show his love everyday through every action he performs he can’t believe he’s being asked if he loves him. Victor, who would drown in all the tears Yuuri’s cried, who would trade places with him in a heartbeat just to take his pain and nightmares away, who would give up the only thing that has ever really brought him true happiness if that is what Yuuri would demand of him. He wants to know if Victor still loves him.

Victor lunges forward and grabs for his Yuuri’s face, smashing their lips together. They’ve never communicated well with words, maybe that’s their real problem. Before they would communicate to each other using the ice, letting their bodies sing a song out to the other with each twist and jump. No one had spoken that language better than they had but they couldn’t use that anymore so maybe it was time to find a new way to talk. If words themselves aren’t good enough than Victor will pour every feeling he has into this kiss; he will make damn sure that Yuuri knows how much he loves him.

Victor’s lungs burn when he pulls back, watching Yuuri’s breath come in soft little pants that brush against his lips and mingle with his own gasps for air. “I will never stop loving you. Do not ever doubt that Yuuri. I will love you for as long as I live, whether you keep me in your life or not, my love for you never change,” Victor growls. Maybe his voice is too harsh and maybe his hold is a little too tight but Victor can’t help it, he doesn’t know how else to convince Yuuri he means every word, every action. Every breath he takes is for the man in front of him and him alone.

Yuuri’s eyes dart up to meet his own and they’re wide and Victor prepares to argue his feelings, maybe kiss Yuuri again until they both suffocate but then Yuuri presses forward and their foreheads touch.

“I won’t ever stop loving you either,” Yuuri whispers and Victor feels like his heart is breaking and soaring right from his chest at the same time. “Please don’t leave me behind, I’m not strong unless you’re with me.”

Victor cradles Yuuri’s face with a more gentle hold, pressing kiss after kiss to those tear stained cheek. “You’re plenty strong on your own my Yuuri.” Victor is the one that is weak. “The strongest man I’ve ever known.” Victor could never deal with the things that Yuuri has had to deal with and still come out intact, trying to recover and live. “But I promise I will stay right here, right by your side. Forever.” It’s a promise he will never break, he has never felt a conviction flow through him with such strength.

“Forever,” Yuuri echoes back to him and the small smile he receives make all the tears and sleepless nights worth it because having that small ray of sunshine pointed at him for even a second makes any sort of pain he has to suffer more than worth it.

 

***

 

Victor suggests they go skate because the ice has always been a safe space for them. He isn’t sure why he still thinks it’s a good idea after everything he’s made Yuuri suffer on it but it seems like a good idea when he first thinks it up. And Yuuri doesn’t protest at all, just quietly follows him to Ice Castle with his skates in hand.

The ice is freshly polished, glistening in the quiet of the empty room. It calls to Victor even now, after the last disastrous thing that happened on it. The ice has always been his home, since he was a small child all alone. Sometimes it had hurt, unforgiving when he’d fallen, but it had also pushed him to soar, made him into the man he was. 

Victor knows something is wrong as soon as they’re standing in front of the rink. Yuuri stops in front of him, the muscles in his back slowly tensing up.

“Yuuri? Tell me what’s wrong.” He brushes his hand along the other’s shoulders but Yuuri just pulls away and goes to the benches.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m fine.”

Victor watches for a moment, the way Yuuri’s hands fly through tying his skates up, how quick he was to dismiss Victor’s concerns. As he pads forward, steps echoing in the quite, Yuuri all but leaps from the bench before Victor can even get his skates out.

It used to be that he would act this way out of an eagerness to get himself onto the ice but it doesn’t feel that way this time. It feels like he’s being avoided. 

Victor watches Yuuri get on the ice, watches as that poise and eloquence that Yuuri has always had to enthrall him with his moves comes to the surface. He’s just doing simple warm up circles around the rink, reacquainting himself with the ice, but Victor finds it beautiful all the same. It seems like maybe this was a good idea afterall.

Until Victor gets on the ice next to his husband.

Yuuri skitters away from him, casting nervous glances toward him when he thinks Victor isn’t looking. Except he’s always looking, watching Yuuri to try and gauge the emotions that he refuses to talk about but that come through in his body language in subtle ways.

He’s starting to breath harder, his cheeks flushing a deep red. His eyes darting around like he’s looking for his exits. Victor knows a coming panic attack when he sees it. His first instinct is to go to Yuuri’s side, hold him like he always does but Yuuri keeps Victor always at the other side of the ice rink. Victor desperately tries to ignore how much that hurts because he has to let Yuuri adjust, the point of this was so that he could come here and feel better.

Victor rounds the corner of the ice while Yuuri rounds the opposite side, ready to get off the ice himself if that will make Yuuri feel more comfortable when Yuuri drops down to his knees and just starts screaming. The scarf that had been billowing behind Yuuri like a trail of gray smoke and seafoam green colored clouds is being ripped back and Victor recognizes the action that Yuuri is ready to perform. Victor can’t get his feet under him to obey fast enough. He scrambles, tripping himself, sprawling to his hands and knees before dragging himself back up, skating to Yuuri’s side as fast as he can. 

He isn’t fast enough, never fast enough.

Terror clouds Victor’s movements and he grabs Yuuri harder than he should, watches the hard wince of pain as he squeezes those delicate wrists. Blood is already dripping from under his fingers, little droplets splashing down onto Victor’s knuckles. Yuuri keeps trying to drag his hands back to his neck and each time Victor yanks them back down, trying to form words that will demand to know why but also convey to Yuuri he’s not mad, just scared. He doesn’t get a chance.

“Leave me alone!”

Yuuri’s screams echo off the walls, bounce back at Victor with a renewed sharpness and stab him straight through the heart. His hold weakens and Yuuri tears away from him, skating as fast as he can to the edge of the rink. Victor watches as Yuuri rips his skates from his feet. They land somewhere to the side with a deafening thump.

Victor can’t move from where he kneels on the cold ground, ice biting into his knees until they’re numb and it’s spreading up into his thighs and down to his calves. Except then he hears Makkachin barking and a door slamming and Victor just let his husband who is covered in blood and trying to tear his own throat out run out the door to locations unknown.

Fear stops his heart and he’s up, throwing off his skates just as quickly as Yuuri had. He can hardly yank his shoes all the way on before he’s running, trying to catch sight of the Japanese man.

“Yuuri!” he screams because he can’t see him and Victor has no idea where he’d run to. Likely not home and he’s running from Ice Castle so not there either. Victor’s thoughts cloud with panic and he just starts running, terror driving him. He screams Yuuri’s name again and again but doesn’t get an answer.

It’s Makkachin’s barking that brings him back and Victor turns, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to locate his dog. 

“Makka!”

The poodle runs up to him, Yuuri’s scarf in her mouth. 

“Makka where’s Yuuri?” Victor asks, watching the dog desperately dance around him. Immediately Makkachin turns and starts running back the way she’d come, barking when Victor doesn’t follow quickly enough. He runs after her down to the beach and in the distance he can just see the outline of his husband, the sun setting behind him and casting his silhouette into shadow until Victor gets closer. 

“Yuuri stop!” he screams, fear clutching at his heart with sharp talons. Yuuri has clawed his wound open again, deeper than before because blood is running in a steady river down his throat and hand. Victor doesn’t stop running, even with his lungs burning. He can’t stop, not until he’s got Yuuri safe in his arms.

Victor grabs at Yuuri’s hands, watching the blood stain his own skin. He wants to say something but he can’t, he can only stare at Yuuri. His beautiful Yuuri who suddenly seems to come back to himself, his brown eyes so angry as they glare straight at Victor. He’s screaming, screaming and trying to get away, trying to get out of Victor’s hold. 

“Yuuri…?” Victor whispers because he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything that is happening between them anymore.

“I can’t skate with you anymore!”

Victor feels everything freeze, the admission a knife in his gut. Skating with Yuuri is all he’s ever longed for. These past few years have been the happiest in his life and it was because of what the ice had given them, something to share. 

“I don’t care,” Victor cries because he has to get Yuuri to stop. He can’t hurt himself. “Dammit Yuuri! I don’t care if I never skate again!” Victor startles at the truth on his lips and realizes that he’s telling the truth, he truly doesn’t care. If he has to give up skating to keep Yuuri with him, to make him happy again and keep him alive then Victor will do it. He will do anything to keep Yuuri with him, even give up the only thing he’s ever been good at.

His hold on Yuuri’s hands weaken and he falls to his knees, grasping weakly at the work out pants Yuuri has on. “I cannot live without you.” The admission hurts, tears sting his eyes as his shoulders shake. The feeling of being ripped apart grows because without Yuuri his life is meaningless, dull, without inspiration or surprise or joy or love. 

“Skating I can give up but you Yuuri, my life, my whole existence, you I cannot live without. You begged me to not leave you behind, but now I’m asking the same thing. Please, please don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

“I… Victor.”

Victor doesn’t raise his head. Can’t. He can’t watch Yuuri destroy himself and he can’t destroy himself to follow Yuuri in death. He is too much of a coward he supposes. 

“I don’t know how to let it go. I can’t stop seeing it, feeling it. I see it every day when I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t stop seeing your face when it happened, I can’t stop seeing how you look at it every time you think I’m not looking at you. I can’t skate anymore, I can’t forget it.”

Victor feels Yuuri’s tears splash down on him but his voice is strong as he tells Victor all the thoughts he’s kept locked away. Would Yuuri have felt better if Victor had known these things sooner or were they always destined to end up here, Victor begging Yuuri for their lives to stay together?

“Don’t skate.” The whisper of his own voice drives another knife up in between Victor’s ribs as he offers up the very last thing he has left to give. “We don’t need to skate, we don’t need anything but each other. Leave it on the ice Yuuri, let the ice have the memory and we’ll never go back to it ever again. If that’s what it takes, it’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make.” Victor finally turns his face up toward Yuuri. The softening light from the setting sun makes Yuuri’s skin glow with a warmth that has been missing, a warmth that used to emanate from him and lift everyone around him up. Victor wants to bring that warmth back to Yuuri’s body, to his soul. 

“But you love skating. You…”

“I love you more,” Victor says, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation as Yuuri shakes his head and blood flies away in little droplets. He feels some of it land across his cheeks and what a sight they must make to anyone watching this drama unfold. “I thought you would know that by now.”  
Victor stills as Yuuri sinks down to his level, resting on his knees across from him. Yuuri just stares at him and Victor can’t help it, he’s crying again. Huge tears of desperation roll from his blue eyes. With as much feeling as he can muster, he tenderly lifts Yuuri’s hands and presses a kiss to each of his scraped up palms. They must sting terribly from all the sand and blood that has gotten into the shallow cuts. “I’m begging you Yuuri,” Victor breaths, pouring his very soul into his plea. “Let me help.”

Yuuri is quiet for a minute and Victor thinks he’s lost, that Yuuri will pull away and finish what he’s started but then his head gives a small nod. 

“Okay,” Yuuri whispers.

“Okay,” Victor echoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide which POV was more emotionally difficult to write, Yuuri's or Victor's. Hopefully you enjoyed getting the other perspective of everything that happened. Makkachin is the real hero of this story, what a good dog.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a real struggle to write at the start and for a second I was worried I wasn't going to be able to finish it. But here we are and it's done and this is the longest thing I have ever written, even longer than the paper I submitted to graduate from college. Woo boy.  
> This also gets a lot more angsty before it gets better. Enjoy!!

“I want you to go see a therapist.”

Yuuri jolts from the oatmeal he’s been slowly consuming, turning to look up at Victor with wide eyes. It’s been a few days since the beach incident and Yuuri had known that they would have to talk about it eventually but Victor had let him settle back in, regain some control of the anxiety that had made him lose his mind. Yuuri had secretly hoped that would be the end of it.

“No.” Victor frowns at his answer, clearly gearing himself up to argue. “No Victor, I can hardly talk to you about any of this. I am not going to some stranger,” Yuuri lets his spoon fall into his half eaten bowl of oatmeal and hugs himself around his abdomen. The suggestion threatens to send him into the spiraling tailspin of an anxiety attack. “No.”

Victor comes around the counter and kneels in front of his chair, placing his hands gently on Yuuri’s knees, peering up until Yuuri is forced to meet those crystal blue eyes.

“Yuuri you tried to kill yourself just three days ago. You promised to let me help.”

“It isn’t helping if you send me away!” Yuuri snaps, trying to ignore the hurt that flashes across Victor’s face.

“Fair enough.” Victor rubs slow patterns on his knee until Yuuri relaxes some. “Okay, no therapist.”

Yuuri nods, ready to go back to his breakfast now that the issue is settled.

“Then you’re going to have to start talking to me. I’ll be your therapist.”

Yuuri turns back, dumbstruck. “You?”

“Yes me.” Victor has the audacity to look offended at Yuuri’s tone, like it’s obvious that he should be Yuuri’s personal therapist.

“Victor it isn’t a big deal. I don’t want to talk about it, not now or ever.” Immediately Yuuri can tell it’s the wrong thing to say as Victor’s face clouds with a flash of different emotions, distress, despair, anger.

Victor shakes his head, hands tightening on Yuuri’s knees. “It is a big deal Yuuri,” he snaps before quickly reining his temper back. “It is a big deal, to me.” Victor’s voice is weaker now, heartbreaking with the desperate need he directs at Yuuri. “If you can’t talk to me and you won’t talk to a stranger… I’m going to have to get your family involved. I don’t want to do that but I will to protect you,” Victor says softly.

Yuuri should be touched that Victor wants to help, that he’s so willing to try but he isn’t. “Fine,” Yuuri bites out, turning away. He’s being petty and immature but even if it’s hurting Victor the threat makes him angry. He wants to be left alone, he wants to stop hurting on his own and now Victor is an obstacle to that. Yuuri is hopeful that his husband will just forget about it in a few days, like he does with most promises. 

Victor doesn’t forget.

“After breakfast I want us to sit down and talk,” Victor says, putting eggs and toast in front of Yuuri. The small appetite Yuuri felt immediately flees. He spends the meal trying to figure a way out of the coming conversation. The eggs get pushed around until they’re a pile of mush hidden under the bitten up piece of bread.

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri refuses to look up at his husband. The whole thing feels ridiculous, like he’s a bug under a magnifying glasses. “Can we just drop it?”

“I’d really rather we didn’t.”

“And I would really rather we did.”

Victor frowns at him, wrapping his hands around his morning mug of coffee. Yuuri focuses on a crumb in front of him, refusing to meet Victor’s expectant gaze. “What do you want me to say?” he snaps, his throat tight with emotions he didn’t want to feel and most definitely didn’t wake up today wanting to express.

“Whatever you want that will help make you feel better,” Victor offers and it is so painfully clear that he’s out of his depth and has no idea what he’s doing. It makes Yuuri want to lash out. How dare Victor force him to talk when the man himself has always been so uncomfortable with an sort of negative emotion. Trying be damned, Yuuri wants to be left alone.

“You almost killed me. What more is there to say Victor?” He shoves his plate away, chair scraping on the floor as he stands. In a few feet he’s at their bedroom door, gripping it tight under white knuckles. He only spares a short glance at the pained look on Victor’s face before he’s slamming the door hard behind him. If he sobs in bed for hours after that and Victor doesn’t come to comfort him, that is Yuuri’s own fault.

 

***

 

Yuuri didn’t really expect things to just go back to normal. He’d tried to kill himself, in a horrible messy way and then refused all help to talk about it. Of course Victor is going to hover, to watch him, to try to make things better. Yuuri wants things to get better, really he does.

But he’s also ready to murder his husband.

“Victor.” His voice comes out strained because he’s trying so hard to be nice to the man who just wants to help. “I’m just going to the bathroom, you don’t have to follow me in here.”

“I’m not following you,” Victor says, picking up his toothbrush. “I wanted to brush my teeth.”

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek until it’s numb. 

He lasts for only two days.

“I’m going to go soak in the hot spring,” Yuuri says, picking up his towel. Maybe the hot water will ease the tension out of his muscles enough for him to relax. Maybe Victor can leave him alone in the springs for just a few moments. He can’t do any damage to himself out there surely.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll come with you.”

Yuuri grinds his teeth together. “No I can go alone.”

Victor pauses in grabbing his own towel, blue eyes flashing with fear. “I don’t mind coming with.”

“You misunderstand me,” Yuuri bites, tone cold. “I  _ want _ to go alone Victor. As in I want to be  _ away  _ from you, by myself, where someone isn’t constantly watching me.” His words are cruel, he shouldn’t be so horrible to the man he loves but he can’t stop himself. His words fly across the room like a whip, striking Victor with almost audible cracks that leave the man’s face pale, flailing to cover how much Yuuri has just hurt him.

Victor swallows but it only takes him a moment to gather himself. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Victor says, voice smoothing out. In mere moments he’s the Victor from years past, hiding behind his fake smiles and bright demeanor. “But I’ll be going anyways. I can’t leave you by yourself.”

“Because you think I’m going to kill myself.”

“Yes.”

Yuuri’s fists clench at his sides. “Well aren’t you so righteous, being their to keep poor Yuuri Katsuki safe from himself.”

Victor runs his fingers through his hair. “Yuuri you know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Yuuri can’t stop the anger that is visibly bubbling just under the surface now, seeping out through every pore of his being. “I want to be left alone Victor.”

“I can’t do that.”

Yuuri throws his towel on the ground. He wants to throw something else, something more satisfying. “I hate you!”

“It doesn’t matter. I made you a promise, I’m not breaking it. You’re just going to have to put up with my help.”

“I don’t want your help!” Yuuri screams, shoving at Victor’s chest furiously. “I don’t want anything to do with you! This is all your fault, I hate you. I hate you so much! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone!” He’s hysterical, Yuuri knows that on some level. He know he doesn’t mean all the hurtful things that are spilling out of his mouth but he can’t stop them, they just keep coming. “Just go away, go back to Russia. I don’t care! I don’t want you around anymore! So you can give up this big burden I’ve become. Hurray for you. Go back and start skating again, since I’ve made you give up absolutely fucking everything!”

Victor stares at him with a blank face, blue eyes lost as Yuuri rips into him.

Yuuri shoves him again for good measure, watching Victor fall back into the wall. The tears threatening at the corner of Victor’s eyes are satisfying for only a minute before guilt takes a bite of Yuuri’s heart and doesn’t want to let go. “Just leave me alone,” Yuuri mumbles, the energy fleeing from his words, from his entire body. Grabbing his duffle bag from beside the bedroom door he disappears out it. Victor makes no move to lift himself up from the wall to stop him.

 

***

 

Watching Yuuri storm off is strangely reminiscent of the night he had tried to kill himself, leaving Victor behind at Ice Castle. This time though, Victor can’t find the strength to lift his limbs from the wall. It feels like he’s shackled to it yet at the same time it is the only thing that is holding him together.

Hurt. There is so much that hurts.

His heart feels like it’s been flayed apart. All of that anger, that outright loathing had been aimed straight at him. Never has Victor seen Yuuri’s face cloud with such hatred; he’d often assumed the Japanese man wasn’t capable of feeling such a strong negative emotion with how accepting and caring he was with everyone around him.

Except now he hates Victor. 

He hates him with a passion.

Makkachin dances around the door, wanting to get out. Even his own dog has seemingly decided to abandon him. Though Victor can’t really blame Makka, or Yuuri. He’s done horrible things to such a gentle, beautiful human being. Victor is the one to blame for twisting Yuuri’s face with such rage. 

His legs wobble and allow Victor to slide to the ground. His breath catches on his next inhale and then he’s crying, burying his face in his hands. Yuuri’s words replay in his head, his furious screams rattling around until Victor can’t hear anything over the roar of them and the desperation of his sobs.

When he calms enough to notice anything past the blood rushing in his ears Victor finds Makkachin is barking at the door, scratching at it desperately. 

The last time Makkachin had been so insistent it had been because Yuuri was about to kill himself. With shaking legs Victor pushes himself up, gripping the wall for support as his vision swims. When the world stops moving around him, he quietly makes his way out of their room and down further into the inn. 

It’s midday and customers are around, talking, eating, drinking. They’re living their lives, blissfully unaware of the pain Victor is harboring in his chest or even worse, of the pain that Yuuri is harboring in his. Out of the two, they’d probably care about Yuuri’s more anyways. Victor is just a stranger here, someone that came in and took Yuuri away from his beloved home and country. Victor had only brought him back when Yuuri had been broken down and destroyed. 

He stays in the shadows, ashamed of himself. Victor looks for Yuuri anyways, checking every open room. He’s nowhere to be found, which means he isn’t here. Makkachin confirms that when she leads Victor to the inn’s front door. Opening it for the poodle Makkachin jumps out, turning around in a confused circle on the front step before whining. She comes back to Victor’s side after a moment, nudging at his hand and licking his wrist.

Of course she doesn’t know where Yuuri’s gone, last time she had followed him. Now she’s been stuck here with Victor and they have no idea where Yuuri’s disappeared to. Maybe he’s gone off to finish what Victor stopped him from doing before. Victor had driven him to that once, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s done it again. Except this time he isn’t there to stop it; he’d been too busy throwing his own pity party to go after Yuuri immediately like he should have.

The idea is overwhelming and Victor feels like he might be sick. With stumbling steps Victor finds himself back in their room, retching into the toilet. He caused this from the start. If anyone deserves to disappear it's him but he’s too much of a coward to give himself up to that option and so Yuuri has to suffer everyday. 

“I’m sorry Makka, it’s all my fault,” Victor gasps, grabbing the poodle's fur when she comes to lick his cheeks. “If he dies it’s all my fault.” His dog whines but doesn’t pull away when Victor sobs furiously into her fur.

 

***

 

“He’s really mad at you, huh?” Mari asks and Victor looks up, startled at the young woman’s appearance in his doorway. 

“Mari,” he says, wiping madly at the tears that are still dripping from in his eyes hours later. “What are you doing here?” Makkachin is in his lap, licking at the wetness that dribbles down and drips off his chin. He must look a mess after their, very loud, fight.

“I saw Yuuri storm off. I know you’ve been trying to help him get back on his feet, I appreciate how much you’re giving up to help with that Victor, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” She sighs, running a hand through her blond hair before giving in and pulling out a cigarette. “He’s stubborn, we both know that.”

Victor nods, the sharp smell of smoke drifting around them as Mari lights her cigarette. They both ignore the fact that Yuuri has forbidden her from smoking in his and Victor’s room.

“He went off to the ballet studio. Minako is out of town but he knows where the key is, in case you were wondering. I saw you looking pretty desperately for him earlier.” Victor waits for her to speak again when she pauses, the air heavy with her discomfort. “You’d tell me if there was something going on with him that you couldn’t handle right Victor?”

“Of course Mari, he’s your brother.”

“You’re family too. Don’t think I wouldn’t murder someone for you, same as I would for Yuuri.” She grins at him. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Victor swallows around the tightness in his throat. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying very hard not to cry again. It’s so nice he realizes for maybe the millionth time that he has a family that cares about him now, that he can rely on for support

“Go knock some sense into that stupid brother’s head of mine.”

 

***

 

Victor finds Yuuri in the ballet studio like Mari had predicted, the lights off while he does simple turns. The moon is full and spills in through the large windows enough to light Yuuri’s space. He’s clearly absent, just letting muscle memory do the job to work out the tension in his muscles. For a little while, Victor simply stands in the doorway and watches because Yuuri is still just as graceful as he was on the ice. There is a beauty to his movements that will never go away and whatever music that is playing in Yuuri’s head is flowing out through his arms and legs.

“I know you’re there.”

Victor startles at Yuuri’s voice but other than the acknowledgement that he’s been discovered, his husband says nothing. Instead he spins around, leaping across the studio in complicated turns and jumps. Finally he stops, panting and turns to look at Victor from across the room. His eyes are still angry, so cold in the reflected light of the moon. 

“How did you find me here?”

“Mari.”

Yuuri scowls at the mention of his sister. “So I can’t be alone anywhere I go? Do you not trust me?”

“I  _ want  _ to trust you.”

Victor watches the anger cloud across Yuuri’s face openly now. “I didn’t ask for you to take care of me.”

“But I will anyways because I love you.” Victor wants so much to cross the ballet studio and take Yuuri in his arms, kiss him silly until the man believes him with every fiber of his being. 

Yuuri huffs and goes to the bar, slowly stretching his leg. Victor remembers watching Yurio do similar training with Lilia. He himself had never done much ballet training for his own skating, he hadn’t needed it. He had done some of the exercises to stay flexible but the majority of his career had been spent on the ice.

“What were you doing while I was watching?” Victor asks softly. 

Yuuri doesn’t look back at him, silence hangs heavy between them.

Victor sighs. “I wish I knew how to dance like you. I never got the training you or Yurio did with ballet.” When Yuuri still doesn’t turn to look at him, Victor continues. “Yakov didn’t think I needed it. I could do whatever he wanted on the ice, the jumps, the spins. Even when I was younger, a junior and even earlier than that, I was already gaining ground on the seniors.”

“You know that I know all of this already Victor.” Yuuri huffs, bending his knees and arching his back.

“I’m not even that great of a classical dancer,” Victor continues. “When we danced at the banquet all those years ago, you were so above and beyond what my level of experience was. Even drunk you didn’t make fun of me; you just led me through all of those dances. I had so much fun that night,” Victor says with a happy sigh at the memory. He’s rambling but it makes the silence easier to bear.

Yuuri lifts his leg above his head, holding his ankle. “Me too,” he says finally. 

Victor perks at the answer. “Yuuri,” he whines, waiting. 

Finally Yuuri ends his stretch and with a sigh, turns to face his husband. 

“I want to dance with you again. Will you teach me?”

Yuuri meets Victor’s gaze, his brown eyes thawing some. For a moment he simply stands still, considering the other before he holds out a hand for Victor. Victor leaps forward to take it, kissing Yuuri’s knuckles gently when their hands connect and wrap together. 

“You want to learn to dance Vitya,” Yuuri reminds but he doesn’t pull away. He leads Victor’s other hand to his waist holding it there gently with his fingers for a moment, seeming to enjoy the warm touch before he remembers he’s irritated with his husband. “Just follow my steps. I’ll go slow for you.”  
Victor watches Yuuri’s feet as he leads them across the ballet studio, the moonlight casting beams across Yuuri’s skin that make him seem to glow. They don’t have music to dance to but they don’t need any. Victor grins and finally Yuuri grins back. Before long they’re both laughing, twirling around each other as they make up their own moves. 

But Victor isn’t as graceful as his husband and with one wrong placement of his feet they’re tripping over each other, landing hard on the ground. Victor pushes himself up, hovering over Yuuri who is wincing and rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m sorry! I’m such a clutz I wasn’t paying enough attention. Are you okay?” Victor gasps. Fears seizes at his heart. What if he’s hurt Yuuri again? What will he do if he’s hurt his foot, or his ankle? Or given him a concussion?

Yuuri sits up some before a giggle bursts from between his lips. He seems surprised by it but then he’s laughing without pause, clutching his sides as he doubles over. “You’re such a god on the ice, how are you so clumsy without skates on your feet?”

Victor grins, relaxing at the sound of laughter. “I wish I knew,” he says finally, laughing along with the Japanese man. 

When they catch their breath they are left staring at each other. 

“Yuuri…” There’s so much Victor wants to say, to confess but Yuuri beats him to it.

“I said such horrible things to you earlier,” Yuuri blurts out. 

Victor nods slowly. “You did,” he agrees because the words had hurt, there was no point in denying that. Even if he did they would both know it was a lie.

“I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Victor breaths. Gently he picks up Yuuri’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

Yuuri looks at him, confusion all over his face. “Just like that you’re going to forgive everything I said?”

Victor nods. “Yes because you were angry, I pushed you too far. You apologized, we can move on now.”

“But I hurt you… I know I did.”

“And I hurt you so I guess that would make us even. No one said this was going to be easy Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes shine with unshed tears. Slowly his hand comes up to brush Victor’s hair away from his eyes. “Thank you for staying with me… I don’t deserve it.”

Victor leans into the touch, smiling as he turns to kiss Yuuri’s palm. “I love you.” He’s the one that doesn’t deserve it. The words are a soothing balm to the pain from earlier and if he can have Yuuri look at him like that, for even a little while longer, than he will happily take it.

“I know you do,” Yuuri mumbles. He leans forward some and then kisses Victor, his lips warm and soft against the older man’s. “I love you too. I’m sorry I’m so frustrating to be around.”

“You aren’t.”

Yuuri snorts, cradling Victor’s face. “Don’t lie.”

“I wouldn’t.”

 

***

 

Even after they make up from their fight Yuuri refuses to talk, no matter Victor’s insistence. So Victor talks instead. 

He talks and talks and talks. 

Sometimes he talks about nothing of importance, his day, the cute thing Makkachin had done the day prior, the things he wants to eat in the coming week. It makes Yuuri smile behind his scarves, not wanting to show Victor how much he comes to enjoy the prattle his husband insists on.

Sometimes Victor gets more serious. 

They lay in bed at night, Victor’s fingers dancing along Yuuri’s skin. “I want to talk about the beach.”

“Victor…” Yuuri curls into Makkachin’s side, ready to shy away from the gentle fingers that play along his bare back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ll talk then. Is that okay?”

Yuuri pushes his face into Makkachin’s soft brown fur. “I guess… as long as I don’t have to answer.”

“Just listen,” Victor promises, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s skin. 

The warm feel of his husband’s lips relax the fear that wants to bubble up from deep inside Yuuri’s chest. “Okay.”

Victor stays close, carefully wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s waist though not tight so that Yuuri can pull away if he gets uncomfortable. “When you fled,” Victor starts softly, recalling that day with a shuddering sigh. His breath ghosts over Yuuri’s bare shoulder and he shivers in response. Victor kisses the skin as an apology. “And I heard you leave with Makka, I was so panicked because you were already bleeding. I knew you were… upset… Just not that upset.”

“You mean upset enough to kill myself?” Yuuri mumbles into the poodles side.

Victor nods and Yuuri can feel his forehead press into his spine, for a moment Victor’s hold on him tightening. “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a while and Yuuri doesn’t bother to speak up again, just lets Victor work through whatever is going on in his head. 

“When I saw you there on the beach and you were…” Victor swallows again, voice shaking. “Tearing yourself apart I thought that was it, that you were going to die in front of me all over again.”

Yuuri shivers and buries his hands under Makkachin to warm up his suddenly freezing fingers. 

“I never brought it up, because of how much you were already hurting, but that day when I cut you and you almost bled out in front of me on the ice… That will always be the worst day of my life. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I’m not going to apologize for it anymore though, I know you’re sick of hearing it even if I’ll never get sick of saying it.”

“I know you’re sorry,” Yuuri says, quiet.

Victor laughs softly and Yuuri feels a few tears land on his shoulder. “I know so I won’t burden you with hearing it over and over.”

Yuuri nods.

“I have nightmares about it too,” Victor admits. “When I actually sleep. Which I don’t. I mostly stay awake all night and just watch you sleep and thank whoever decided to give me a second chance that you’re alive.”

Yuuri hadn’t known that Victor wasn’t sleeping. His husband hid it well, always making sure that Yuuri had everything he needed, even when Yuuri was being a brat about it. 

“Every time I close my eyes I see you there, lying in a pool of your own blood. It was my fault that it happened, I can feel that split second where I catch you. I wish it was me, all the time because of how I’ve made you suffer. It doesn’t matter how much I wish though because you’re still the one that has to bear the brunt of this pain and I can’t help, no matter how hard I try. I’m completely useless to you. I thought you would surely throw me away for it, because that would be the least that I would deserve. It would be a fitting punishment, take away the only thing that matters to me.” Victor shivers behind him and Yuuri knows he’s crying, silent sobs so that he won’t bother Yuuri with his own emotions.

Yuuri slowly turns around, taking in Victor’s pained outline. Makkachin settles again as he moves, the large poodle pressing firmly into his back, forcing Yuuri closer to Victor. “Vitya,” Yuuri whispers and carefully reaches out his hand. He brushes at the tears that slip down Victor’s pale cheeks, his heart clenching painfully. “I had no idea I was hurting you so badly. I was only thinking about myself…”

Victor shakes his head, horrified. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about me Yura! I’m not the one that is important, I’m not the one that is suffering.”

“Except you were… you still are.” Yuuri cups Victor’s cheek, watching Victor lean into the touch. His heart clenches again at how much pain he sees reflected in Victor’s blue eyes. He’d hidden it so well, or Yuuri had been so blinded by his own self imposed misery that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to his husband’s needs. “Vitya…” Yuuri starts, not sure how to make the pain easier.

“Do you still want to kill yourself?” Victor blurts out suddenly, his voice high pitched with fear. New tears spill around Yuuri’s hand, he doesn’t pull back even at the sticky feeling the tears leave under his palms. “Have I helped at all Yuuri or am I just making everything worse?”

“It isn’t that simple,” Yuuri breaths out. He’s thankful for the darkness around them, for the warmth of the room they’re in. Nestled between Makkachin and Victor, both pressed up against his bare skin to keep him warm he feels safer somehow. Like the fears he feels during the day won’t reach him here. Carefully he pulls his hand away, ignoring how Victor chases his fingers. 

He reaches up to the scarf around his neck, a light blue one today that matches Victor’s eyes so beautifully. Yuuri wraps his fingers around the fabric and pulls, letting it unwind from around him. His skin feels cold as the air touches it but now his scar is bared and Victor’s eyes fall to it for a brief moment before they flicker back up to meet Yuuri’s. 

“It’s okay, you can look.” Yuuri lays the scarf down, his fingers reaching up toward his throat. He notices how Victor’s hands twitch but he doesn’t move to stop him, just watches as Yuuri traces his own injury. The skin feels smooth in the middle, where it’s stark white. The edges of the scar are more rough, jagged and raised from not healing right. It would have healed better if he had left it alone, instead of tearing the wound open again and again. 

“Yes,” Yuuri says and Victor’s eyes fly to meet his. “In answer to your question, that want to kill myself is still there. But it isn’t as strong as it was on the beach,” Yuuri promises as Victor’s lip trembles. Yuuri drops his hand and reaches for Victor’s carefully pulling it until Victor is touching his throat, his fingers tracing over the scar now.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, trying to pull away.

“It’s okay.” And it is, Yuuri isn’t scared of letting Victor see it, or touch it. He feels safe here, cocooned between the man and the dog that have taken such good care of him. “I’m not going to leave you Vitya; I didn’t know I was hurting you so much but I promise you I’m not going to go anywhere. I know that now.”

Victor sucks in a pained breath before his head drops against Yuuri’s chest and he cries. The sobs rip through him in huge heaving gasps that shake his entire body. Yuuri holds him as he cries, stroking his fingers through the soft silver hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor whispers when he finally calms enough to breath normally. 

“I’m not mad.” Yuuri presses a kiss to Victor’s forehead. “I’ve been hurting you for months now. I’m sorry I only just realized that.”

Victor shakes his head but Yuuri doesn’t let him spew words about his feelings not mattering. Instead he kisses Victor silent, holding his husband close to him. “I love you Victor Katsuki.”

“I love hearing my name like that,” Victor whispers with a soft laugh when they break apart. 

“Yuuri Nikiforov would have sounded just as nice,” Yuuri says, letting their foreheads rest together. 

“I wanted to be yours in every way imaginable.” 

Yuuri blushes a deep red but the words warm him, the anger and sadness that he always feels seems to drip away. At least for the moment. “You’ll always be mine just as I’ll always be yours,” Yuuri promises and smiles when Victor kisses him again.

 

***

 

Listening to Victor open up is strange, hearing all of his husband’s thoughts laid out for Yuuri to pick apart must be difficult for the older man but he does it willingly, happily. It helps somehow, Yuuri can feel a shift deep in his heart.

“Your family has been so kind to me,” Victor breaths, his head in Yuuri’s lap. “I never really had a family of my own. Yakov took me in after he scouted me at an exhibition. My mother was all too happy to see me go.”

Yuuri hums as he strokes his fingers through Victor’s hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. He doesn’t talk, just listens and somehow that makes him feel better as well. With every word Victor tells him his own mind can relax the fearsome hold it has had over his life.

“Your mother loves me like I’m her own.”

“Of course she does,” Yuuri says with a fond little smile. 

“I don’t understand that. Even when I first came here everyone so readily accepted me into their lives. It was like I always belonged here and had just taken my time in coming home. I’ve never had… I’ve never felt anything like that before Yuuri.”

“I know.”

Victor turns his head and nuzzles into Yuuri’s stomach, breathing deep the smell of laundry soap and warmth that clings to Yuuri’s golden skin. “I’ve never been as happy as I was when I found you, when I found a family.”

Yuuri leans down and when Victor turns his face upward their noses brush before Yuuri kisses him. “You will always belong here with me.” He straightens up, his muscles relaxing again as he continues to play with Victor’s hair. “You know it was the same when I found you, I felt like I could finally be myself without having to be afraid all the time. You were the safe haven I needed to face the world.”

“We help each other Yuuri.”

Except it feels like Victor is always the one helping him. Yuuri has fought him every step of the way as Victor has tried to mend his healing heart and mind. “When I ran from you…” Yuuri starts slowly, voice hesitant and unsure. He knows he has to talk about it. What he’s been putting Victor through with his stubborn, fearful silence has done nothing to help either of their anxieties. “When we were skating,” he clarifies at Victor’s confused gaze. “When I ran off… It wasn’t you I was running away from.”

Victor reaches out and laces their fingers together, giving Yuuri something to hold onto, something to ground him so the memories won’t take over.

“Your skates caught the light. That’s what spooked me, caused the panic attack.” It sounds foolish but Victor just squeezes his hand. “I saw them before when we skated, when I got hurt. That’s what I remember from that day. Your skates and then my own blood. So when they flashed like that… It wasn’t… It wasn’t because I was on the ice with you Victor. It wasn’t because of you that I tried to kill myself.” Yuuri feels like he’s babbling like an idiot, he doesn’t know if what he’s saying even makes sense. His throat feels tight, the anxiety that always comes with talking about what happened wrapping an invisible hand around him to choke him into silence.

“Thank you.” Victor is leaning up, into his line of vision and Yuuri realizes he’s started crying. Victor makes sure to kiss each tear away. “Thank you my love, for telling me that. I know it wasn’t easy, you’re always so brave for me my Yuuri.” Victor’s crying too Yuuri realizes and he grins some. 

“We look like a bunch of ridiculously emotional idiots.”

“Maybe we are but that’s okay. I wouldn’t change you for the whole world.” Victor presses their lips together. The kiss is tender, Victor’s way of showing his love, his support, his gratitude and it makes Yuuri cry harder because he’s happy. “You okay baby?” Victor whispers against his lips.

Yuuri nods quickly. “Yeah… I’m just… happy,” he says and laughs, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck to hug him tightly. His chest feels light and it makes him only cry harder. “I’m just so happy I have you.”

 

***

 

They work out a new routine, one Yuuri finds is comforting. They dress in the morning together and instead of feeling like a burden when Victor picks out his clothes and helps him put them on, Yuuri feels cherished. Victor always takes such care with each outfit, making sure the scarf from his vast collection matches perfectly. It’s something little but every time Victor looks him over, appraising the outfit he’s just put Yuuri into there is something that swells in Yuuri’s heart. It grows more when Victor leans in and every day kisses his left cheek.

They always have breakfast together and since they rise so early, to avoid many of the guests that stay at the inn, they’ve started cooking it as well. It feels like how they had been in St. Petersburg, when things had always been good. Yuuri finds he likes it, had missed the normalcy of the act more than he realized. 

After, they usually head out for a run, through the quiet streets of his home. The only place they avoid is the beach but Yuuri thinks that is more for Victor’s sake than his own. Whenever they near it Victor’s steps always falter and a haunted look passes through his eyes until Yuuri takes his hand and leads him home. Or to the dance studio.

Dance has taken the hollowed out spot that skating use to fill. Victor isn’t as good as Yuuri is but he was a skater for most of his life, the moves come easy, the grace in his steps is there. Yuuri just happens to be better at it than him. But Victor is a good student.

Yuuri can feel them drawing closer again in a way that they haven’t been since the accident. They touch more, they kiss often. Yuuri finds that when he smiles it isn’t forced, or it isn’t forced most of the time. He had opened up and Victor, true to himself, had met Yuuri where he was.

Then, unexpectedly, Yuri Plisetsky shows up at the front door of the inn. He’s taller now than when he had first shown up in Hasetsu all those years ago to try and take Victor back to Russia but his attitude remains the same. Yuuri finds it amusing even if the arrival of a friend scares him. It’s been months, almost a full year since he’s seen anyone from their skating circle and Yuri looks furious because of it.

“Yurio, what are you doing here?” Victor asks with a grin. Yuuri is forever grateful when he feels his husband’s arm snake protectively around his waist, tugging him tight to Victor’s side. The anxiety is already bubbling up from deep inside his core, threatening to overwhelm him.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” Yuri snaps, throwing his duffle bag into a corner of the room. “The season is over so I’m taking a vacation, here, since you and the pig just decided to drop off the map.”

Yuuri flushes red and presses his face into Victor’s arm.

“Yo.”

Yuuri glances back at the other Yuri, finally meeting his fierce gaze. He looks angry, though that isn’t totally unusual for him. Underneath his glare though Yuuri can see how his lips pinch together, the way his hands ball into fists inside his jacket pockets. He’s been worried, Yuuri realizes with a start.

“What, did you get brain damage hitting the ice?”

“Yuri,” Victor warns, his tone hardening.

Despite the reminder of his accident Yuuri finds himself smiling. “Hey Yurio.” He steps forward, one hesitant move and then another before he drops Victor’s arm and hugs the younger man.

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri mumbles but his arms come up slowly, just as hesitant as Yuuri himself is before hugging him fiercely. “You fucking idiot.”

“I know,” Yuuri said with a small smile, squeezing his friend back just as tight. Seeing the other is a shock but with Yuri standing in front of him now, he realizes just how much he’s missed the other skater.

When they back up Yuri’s cheeks are flaming red. “So I flew all this way, aren’t you going to like, show me to my room and let me get settled or something? God you’re a terrible host. I want to soak in the springs before my legs fall off from that damn cramped plane.”

There routine changes now that Yuri has arrived but Yuuri doesn’t feel as panicked as he did before. Victor stays close, that helps and offers him whatever quiet support he wants. They retreat often to their bedroom when Yuuri needs a break and Victor holds him, allowing the panic to work itself out in the secure darkness of their room. Yuri thankfully doesn’t protest when they slip away.

Yuuri finds that he is even having fun. Since it’s technically Yuri’s vacation he demands that the pair bring him to see the town, to anything fun that might be going on. It’s the first time Yuuri has truly ventured back out to mingle with people. 

The first day leads to a panic attack in the middle of a park. Victor takes them aside, finding a quiet spot under a tree where Yuuri can sob softly into his chest. Victor rubs slow circles on his back, hugging him tight as they wait for it to pass. When it does Yuri appears with three ice cream cones, like nothing ever happened. Yuuri has never been so thankful.

It gets easier the more he’s forced to go out until one morning when Victor is dressing him, wrapping a soft yellow scarf around his neck while his thumb brushes along his scar in a soothing motion, Yuuri finds he’s looking forward to their trip up the coast. The realization brings a smile to his face.

“What are you thinking?” Victor breaths and leans down to nuzzle into Yuuri’s soft hair. Yuuri feels him take a deep breath, inhaling his smell and the simple action makes him smile even wider.

“I just feel good for once. I want to go for a drive with you and Yurio.”

Victor smiles and kisses his forehead.

“You aren’t mad are you?” Yuuri asks suddenly, fear clouding his judgement.

Victor snorts at him. “Yuuri, love of my life, star in my sky, why would I be mad about you being happy?”

“Because Yurio’s the reason we started going out in public again.” Yuuri wraps his hands in Victor’s shirt, worrying the fabric between his fingers nervously.

“We took things at the pace we needed for us. If it took an angry little Russian showing up on our front steps to push us to the next step, then he is a blessing disguised as a young man with a filthy mouth.”

Yuuri giggles and let’s Victor tilt his chin up so he can be kissed. 

“I will never be mad about what makes you happy, or whomever makes you happy. It’s good for you to have a friend around. Even if it’s one as loud as Yuratchka.” 

As if on summoned by someone simply talking about him, Yuri yells up the stairs. “Hurry up before I die of old age!”

Yuuri laughs and wraps his arms around Victor. “I love you.”

“Mmm, I love you more,” Victor whispers before he is yanking Yuuri up off the bed, hands supporting his thighs as he twirls them around the bedroom. Yuri comes up to fetch them when Yuuri’s laughter drifts through the house.

 

***

 

Yuuri has come to expect that all good things must end. The thought has been less as of late but it always lingers just at the back of his mind. It was inevitable.

It’s early evening and the inn is quiet. Dinner bowls sit empty in front of them at the table. Victor is leaning against the wall, watching Yuuri with a fond smile as Yuuri plays with Makkachin’s ears. Yurio had disappeared as soon as they had finished eating, probably to bathe in the springs.

Yuuri startles at Yurio’s sudden return when he drops Yuuri’s skates right in front of where he’s sitting.

“Get up,” Yuri growls, his cheeks slightly red. “You got hurt but you can still skate. You didn’t lose the ability. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you can’t get back out there.”

“Yuri…” Yuuri had given up the idea of ever seeing his skates again; they look old now, used up like how Yuuri suddenly feels. He reaches out, touching the soft leather. “I can’t.” He has no idea where the young Russian has dug his skates out from and judging by Victor’s sharp intake of breath, neither does he.

“Don’t be a fucking quitter.”

“Yurio,” Victor chimes in. His voice is tight even though there is a smile on his face. He’s watching Yuuri with anxious eyes. His fingers twitch toward him though he doesn’t reach out. Yuuri is grateful for the space, he doesn’t feel like he’s going to have a panic attack. Not yet. Yuuri knows Yuri is just trying to help him, in his own way.

“This is bullshit. He can still skate just fine!”

“Yuri, drop the subject,” Victor warns.

“No! Why aren’t you helping him get back out there Victor?” Yuri’s voice is getting high, close to his explosive attitudes that he still hasn’t grown out of even after all of these years. “You’re his coach, his partner for fucks sake.”

“I can’t get back on the ice,” Yuuri says, voice hardly getting above a whisper. The admission is loud enough to cut the growing argument off and Yurio’s attention is back on Yuuri, green eyes glaring at him. Yuuri knows what’s coming next; the inevitable truth he’ll spill. Somehow it scares him less than he thought it would.

“That is utter bullshit.”

“The last time, the only time, I tried getting back on the ice I almost killed myself after.”

Behind him Victor draws in a strangled breath but it’s Yuuri’s secret to tell and Yuri should know, his family should know, his friends should know. There is a reason Yuuri can’t get on the ice anymore and he shouldn’t be ashamed of the things that are holding him back. If they know, they won’t push him and he won’t end up like he had with Victor, alone and scared trying to rip his own throat out. 

“What?” Yuri snarls but it isn’t anger in his voice anymore, it sounds like barely concealed fear. 

Yuuri only spares him a small glance, meeting his eyes for just a moment before his courage flees him and his gaze falls back to his skates. “Victor stopped me in time,” he mumbles shrugging one shoulder. Victor’s hand snakes along the floor, closer but still not touching. Yuuri appreciates the silent offer of comfort and moves his hand so their fingers brush before letting Victor lace them together.

The silence is heavy and now Yuuri can feel the panic setting in because it’s such a cowardly thing to do, trying to kill himself because he’s afraid of dealing with his husband, his family, his friends, the entire world, for an accident that he had no control over. “It’s stupid,” he mumbles, shrugging again. “But I can’t get back on it.”

“Yuuri,” Victor breaths and leans forward enough to press a kiss to Yuuri’s shoulder blade. “It’s not stupid.”

They sit in heavy and uncomfortable silence for several long minutes.

“You can’t just walk away from the one thing that made you happy. You can’t make Victor walk away from it!” Yuri finally explodes from above him. Yuuri flinches, hard. He knows what Victor’s given up for him. He hates himself for that sacrifice daily. 

“Yuri!” Victor snarls leaping to his feet. Fury rolls off of him in tense waves, blue eyes flashing like he’s considering smacking Yuri for daring to say something like that to his Yuuri. “You don’t get to barge in here and act like you have any idea what Yuuri’s been through, what he’s feeling!”  
“Yeah, that’s because he won’t let me!” Yuri snarls right back. “He cut out every single one of us! We just want to help you, you moron. You think ditching me or Phichit or anyone is going to make this all go away for you? Walking away from the ice isn’t going to make all the bad crap you’re feeling go away either. Stop being so selfish! There are people here who care about you enough to want to help you through this.” Yuri kicks a pillow in frustration, turning and storming away. 

“Where are you going?” Victor demands.

“Skating!” Yuri snaps.

Victor turns back toward Yuuri, dropping down in front of his husband. “Yuuri, what are you thinking right now? Don’t close me out.”

Yuuri looks up from his knees, surprised to find that he’s crying. “Am I… am I really hurting everyone else that much?”

“No. No one blames you for needing your space baby.” Victor scoots closer. His fingers curl around one of Yuuri’s feet, massaging it gently. “Yuri is an immature brat; he doesn’t know how to deal with one of the people he cares about getting hurt but he does care about you, he’s worried for you.”

“What about Phichit?” Yuuri sniffs, wiping at the tears that threaten to fall in rivers down his cheeks. Phichit, his best friend in the entire world, who has helped him conquer so much and he’s just ignored him. Yuuri hasn’t even bothered to call. What must Phichit think of him?

“Phichit understand that you need your space right now. We talk, he knows you’re okay.”

“Does he know what I did?”

Victor shakes his head and carefully switches to rubbing Yuuri’s other foot. “That isn’t for me to tell him or anyone else. When you’re ready to see him and when you’re ready to talk about it, then you can tell him.”

Yuuri sniffs, hugging his legs tighter because he doesn’t deserve Victor with his unending patience and understanding. “Hold me?” he whispers into his knees.

“Of course.” Victor comes closer, settling against the wall again. With one easy lift he’s got Yuuri in his lap, arms wrapped tight around the other in a cocoon to keep Yuuri safe. His fingers card through his brown hair, the other hand rubbing his back in small soothing circles. “I’ve got you my love, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m right here.” Victor hums him a soft lullaby as they wait for the tears to stop and the panic to pass.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry.”

Yuuri flushes from behind his scarf as Yuri appears in front of him, dropping his breakfast down onto the table next to Yuuri’s. The younger Russian sits down, shoulders tense at the awkward feelings between them.

“I didn’t know.”

Yuuri nods slowly. “I know,” he whispers. He doesn’t pull out of the safety his scarf provides, it gives him the strength of Victor’s love while the man is in the kitchen making his own food. “I’m not mad.”

“But you cried.”

“I cry a lot,” Yuuri says weakly, trying to ease the tension.

Yuri looks less than impressed. 

“It isn’t a big deal…” Yuuri tries and then flinches because he’d said that to Victor once too. “Okay, it is but I’m not a threat to myself anymore. For the most part.”

“For the most part?” Yuri growls at him.

Yuuri ducks his head further into his scarf. “Victor helps when it gets bad.”

“Would you stop hiding from me?” Yuri reaches forward, grabbing for the scarf. 

Seeing the hand come toward him, ready to grab his safety net Yuuri panics. He flinches away so hard he falls backward, sending his bowl and glass scattering across the table with a fearful shriek. In seconds Victor is there, his blue eyes darting toward the situation. 

“Ow, hey!” Yuri cries when Victor grabs his wrist. 

Yuuri can see how hard Victor is holding Yuri’s wrist, there will be bruises on the delicate pale skin later but Yuuri can’t focus on that for more than a moment. The panic is exploding through him, carried in his veins with each erratic pump of his heart. Everything is too tight and he hasn’t had an attack this bad in so long. He can’t see, he can’t breath. It’s like that night and as soon as Yuuri thinks about the accident he sees blood, can feel it. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to feel like this. He wants it to stop, needs it to stop.

Through waves of red Yuuri can hear shouting, Victor’s angered voice. He sounds so mad, so afraid. Why does he sound like that? Who hurt him? Yuuri should do something, should hug him, hold him like he did all those times Victor had needed to cry. Or how Victor had held him when he was doing the same.

“Look at what you did! Yuuri, Yuuri baby you have to calm down!”

Yuuri feels his hands turn to claws, trying to shred him apart and he’s better than this, he’s stronger than this but he can’t stop. 

“What’s wrong with him?!”

Yuuri curls into the hands that wrap around him, into the chest he’s pulled into. Hands grab for his, holding them tightly as he cries. He can hear Victor now, whispering in his ear.

“Baby you have to listen to me. You’re safe here with me, no one is going to touch you. You’re here, you’re with me. You aren’t bleeding. I’ve got you my love.” 

Yuuri desperately tries to pull his hands back though he isn’t sure if it’s to claw or if it’s to try and hold Victor. Either way his hands are not released. It makes Yuuri cry harder because he knows he is better than this, he has gotten over this. Except for he clearly hasn’t because he can feel the blood trying to drown him. Victor has to be here to protect him from himself.

His breath get shorter, his vision darker and Yuuri happily lets himself pass out.

 

***

 

Victor is furious and even that might be the biggest understatement he’s ever made.

He’d seen the panic attack coming as soon as he was back in the dining area. Yuri’s hand reaching for Yuuri’s scarf had been the only clue he needed. They’d gone so long without one, Yuuri had been stronger, happier lately. He hadn’t wanted to hide himself away in dark rooms, had willingly put himself around people. And Yuri had to go do the one thing that would set his beloved off.

“What were you thinking?!”

Yuri doesn’t answer, hasn’t been able to look at him since Victor had tucked a passed out Yuuri into their bed with Makkachin keeping guard. 

“Do you have any idea how well he was doing?”

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know-”

“He wears the scarves to hide himself! He hasn’t shown it to anyone, dammit Yuri!” Victor wants to throttle the younger man but it had been an accident. Frustrated tears leak from his eyes, he scrubs them away with the back of his hand. He feels so useless, so helpless to Yuuri’s pain only a room away.

Yuri glares at the floor. “I wasn’t trying to scare him… I just wanted him to look at me.”

“I thought you were here to help him, you were helping him but now he’s taken a leap backwards. You have no idea what we’ve been through just to get to the point he was at, where he could interact with you like a person again. You have no idea Yuri…” Victor leans against the wall, burying his face in his elbow as he tries to breath through his tears. “He hides because he’s embarrassed of what I did to him, hates all the attention and pity people give him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You owe that to him, not to me.”

They stand quietly in the hall, unable to look at each other.

Makkachin barks from the bedroom and Victor lifts his head, listening hard. The soft and steady breathing has stopped so Yuuri must be awake again. “Stay here. If he wants to see you I’ll come get you.”

Victor doesn’t wait to see if Yuri nods just goes to their room. Yuuri is sitting up on the bed, eyes glazed as he looks around.

“Yuuri.”

Brown eyes jump up to meet his and recognition flickers there. Good, progress. Much better than how he used to be when he came out of his panicked state of mind.

“Can I sit with you baby?”

Yuuri nods slowly.

“May I hold you?”

The nod is slower this time but the Japanese man doesn’t pull away when Victor reaches for him. Even better.

Victor moves all the way onto the bed, pulling Yuuri into his lap and against his chest. “Can you talk to me at all?” Victor feels Yuuri shake his head no and nods in understanding, allowing Yuuri to just rest against him.

Finally Yuuri stirs, his hand seeking Victor’s. “Water?”

“Mmm.” Victor reaches over for the water glass he’d brought in earlier. He’s rather proud of himself and how far he’s come in being able to care for Yuuri after a panic attack. If he has nothing else at least he can do this right, finally. “Long deep sips love, slowly.” He tips the glass, watching the water disappear steadily until it’s empty and Victor deposits it back on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts…” Yuuri watches Victor run his thumb along his knuckles slowly. “Yuri?”

“In the hall.”

“You yelled at him.”

“Properly chastised is the term I would use.” Victor brushes Yuuri’s hair off of his forehead, kissing there right after. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

Yuuri hums and Victor watches him bury his nose into his scarf, breathing in slow and steady breaths. As they sit in the dark his eyes clear more, the color returning to his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Victor had known the apologies would start eventually, even though Yuuri has nothing to be sorry for. He quickly tells his husband as much.

“But I made you worry didn’t I? I made you upset.”

Victor nuzzles against Yuuri’s cheek, kissing it. “I’m only upset because you were hurting so much. It’s okay Yuuri, you have nothing to be sorry about. Panic attacks happen, you are still plenty strong. You are still my beautiful husband, so brave. Do you know how much I love you?” 

Yuuri gives a small nod.

“I think I will tell you all of the ways, just incase you forgot one,” Victor breaths with a smile. The blush that spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks warms Victor’s shaken core.

 

***

 

Yuuri stays hidden all day. Victor brings him food and they eat in bed, Victor telling him soft stories about when he was younger and all the things he did that drove Yakov crazy. “At one point I told him I was quitting skating to run a flower shop.” Yuuri giggles into Victor’s shoulder. “That way I could wear flower crowns everyday.”

He sleeps on and off, Victor always awake and watching him when his eyes blink back open. When it’s well past midnight and he isn’t tired anymore Victor distracts him from his dark thoughts by kissing his hand, up his arm and to his shoulder.

“You should sleep Victor…” Yuuri mumbles when the action is repeated to his other hand and arm. “You look so tired.”

“Mmm, I would much rather show my husband how much I love him.”

Yuuri blushes. He fidgets nervously for a moment before he tugs his scarf off. Victor’s lips pause on his collarbone where they had been kissing a careful path along the edge of the fabric. With very slow movements Victor kisses up Yuuri’s neck, waiting after each gentle press of lips to see if Yuuri wants him to pull back. It feels nice, in a place so rarely touched. Victor kisses up the uninjured side first, tickling Yuuri’s neck with his soft exhales of breath. He switches over, pausing at the bottom of Yuuri’s scar and for a moment Yuuri is terrified that Victor only feels disgust.

“You are my reason for living,” Victor breaths against the bottom of his scar, kissing the knit together flesh. “My whole world.” Another kiss, moving upward slowly. “My star in the sky, my Yuuri, so brave, strong, talented, beautiful.” Victor punctuates each word with a press of his lips until he’s reached the top of the scar. “My husband. I love you, more than anything.”

Yuuri feels tears in his eyes as Victor pulls back to look at him. “I love you,” he whispers at Victor’s concerned gaze. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself. Thank you, thank you for sticking with me no matter what.”

“Of course.” Victor brushes their noses together before sealing their lips. 

 

***

 

Victor is surprised when he wakes up, not sure when he had fallen asleep. He feels rested for the first time in almost a year, without nightmares to wake him from the few minutes of sleep he would normally grab. Lifting his head some he finds Yuuri watching him, a small smile curling his lips. The sun is peeking through the curtains and his skin is bathed in a warm glow. He looks healthy, happy, in a way he hasn’t in so long.

“Did I keep you from resting?” Victor asks, trying to lift himself from where he’d slept against Yuuri’s chest. He must have fallen asleep while laying kisses all over Yuuri’s delicate skin last night.

“Not really,” Yuuri says and his fingers come up to thread through Victor’s hair, pushing him back down to where he’d been lying comfortably. Victor goes willingly, settling back in. “It was good to watch you sleep. You look better this morning.”

Victor flushes some and closes his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

“I was up all night.”

“Yuuri,” he protests quietly.

“I was thinking too much to sleep and I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.” Yuuri runs his fingers along Victor’s ear, down his neck, follows his spine. “I should talk to Yurio this morning, clear the air with him.”

“Only if you want to.” Victor tries to ignore how he so easily arches into the touch, a soft moan slipping out at the way Yuuri rubs at his back muscles. 

“I want to.” Yuuri tugs Victor closer, farther up his chest. His hand continues to wander further down until Victor startles, Yuuri’s hand squeezing his ass. 

“Yuuri,” he whines, looking down at his husband.

“I also…” Yuuri swallows. “I want to call Phichit.”

“That’s good!” Victor says, pride welling in him. He kisses Yuuri gently, smiling. “Do you want to get up now? I can make you breakfast if you want to call him, or-” Victor’s breath catches and his words fall away as Yuuri gives his ass another, more firm, squeeze.

“It’s still early Vitya, I was kinda hoping we could… do something else.” Yuuri is flushed a deep red but it’s clear what he wants and who he wants it from.

Victor blushes at the intensity of the gaze directed at him, his body demanding and reacting as Yuuri plays him like a well loved instrument. “Whatever you want my Yuuri,” he whispers.

They spend the early morning wrapped in each other’s arms, bodies rocking together. For one moment there is no fear or worry that has to pass between them or through their own heads. They simply exist with each other, two people content to be in love and happy.

 

***

 

The inn is quiet in the morning so Yuuri drags Victor down to the baths. He’d hoped to see Yurio there but it probably would have been strange to corner him in the springs. Victor is more than happy to let Yuuri curl into his side as they relax in the warm water. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm,” Victor hums into Yuuri’s hair and he sounds half asleep. Yuuri swallows down his question, wanting to let Victor rest. “I’m listening Yuuri, don’t worry,” Victor says when Yuuri doesn’t speak back up.

“I was thinking…” Yuuri rubs at Victor’s hand, curling himself closer to his husband. “I was thinking that maybe, when I call Phichit I could, maybe… invite him to come visit. I mean… we already have Yuri here. It’s kinda unfair to have one friend and not invite the other one. I’m sure Phichit knows he’s here, they obviously must talk now or something since Yuri mentioned him the other day.” Yuuri’s babbling, the nerves biting at his throat until the words pour from him without stopping.

“Yuuri do you want him to come visit?” Victor interrupts and turns Yuuri’s face up to meet his gaze. His strong blue eyes, so clear and wide awake settle the fear that has been trying to expand at Yuuri’s suggestion. He isn’t even sure why he was afraid that Victor would reject him.

“Yes I want to see him.”

“Then I think it’s a great idea.” Victor smiles at him, his beautiful heart shaped smile and hugs Yuuri tightly, rubbing their noses together in delight. “I’m sure Phichit will be delighted.”

“There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

Yuuri nods, not breaking their eye contact. “I want you to invite Chris.”

Victor blinks in confusion. “Chris?”

“He’s your best friend and I know you haven’t been able to talk to him very much because you always have your hands full with me. And I like Chris too, so I think he should come as well.” Yuuri hopes the idea doesn’t make Victor upset, presuming that he wants Chris to come visit.

“Yuuri… I…” Victor gives a slow nod. “Thank you. I have missed seeing Chris. I’ll call him later today. I know he would love to come and see you as well. As long as that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

“I am. I promise.”

Victor kisses him gently, a warm grin on his face when they break apart. “What a get together we’ll have.”

Yuuri lets Victor pull him from the warm water when he starts to doze off because he still has one other person he has to find and talk to today before he calls his best friend. They eventually find Yuri out on the front walk with Makkachin, throwing a stick back and forth for her.

“Yurio.”

Yuri glares up from under his blond hair but he looks hesitant to actually start an argument. Makkachin jumps back to Yuri’s side, dropping the slobbery stick into the skater’s lap expectantly. “At least we’re outside so you can yell at me as loud as you want…” Yuri mumbles, fiddling with the stick like it’s his only lifeline.

“I’m not mad.” Yuuri says as he sits down next to Yurio, smiling in what he hopes is a look more confident than he feels at the moment. “Don’t beat yourself up. Victor used to give me tons of panic attacks.”

“Hey!” Victor protests. 

“You were outta control, I’ve never seen you that upset.”

Yuuri shrugs, his mood thankfully still riding high from his morning with Victor. Not even the memory of his panic attack from yesterday can drag him down. “I’m sorry you had to see it. I’m not gonna lie that’s kinda been the norm around here for a while.”

“You’ve gotten much better my love,” Victor says from behind the pair, settling in against Yuuri’s back, an ever reassuring presence. 

Yuuri rolls his eyes at his husband pointedly, tugging nervously at his scarf. “My point is,” he said with a slow draw of breath. “You said a lot of true things, a lot of things I’ve probably needed to hear for a while.”

“I made you freak out.”

“Everyone makes me freak out.”

Yuri looks away, focusing on Makkachin again. He picks up the stick and chucks it across the sidewalk, watching the dog dart off after it. “I’m sorry anyways. I wasn’t trying to look…”

Yuuri takes another slow breath, steadying himself. “You can look if you want,” he says and takes the green scarf off carefully. It pools in his lap, still warm from his body heat. “Victor bought me the scarves so people wouldn’t stare at it… they make me feel safe. It’s like he’s always right there with me, even if he isn’t.”

Victor leans in and kisses Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuri stares quietly at the scar, the white flesh a stark reminder of the accident he’d survived. “It doesn’t even look that bad you know. Kinda makes you finally look like a badass. Maybe you could fool people into thinking you’re actually not a pushover.”

“Doubtful,” Yuuri says but it’s with good nature, a small laugh escaping. “I think I’ll keep wearing the scarves. Besides, if I stopped wearing them I’m not sure what we would do with all of them. I have about every color under the sun and enough to not have to wear the same one twice for months.”

“You can’t ever do anything like a normal person, can you?” Yuri huffs in Victor’s direction.

“Why would I want to?”

Yuuri leans back into his husband. “Why indeed?”

For a while they sit, taking turns throwing the stick for Makkachin every time she runs back until finally the poor dog collapses at their feet, panting.

“We also were going to ask Phichit and Chris to come visit. It doesn’t really seem fair that you’re here and I’m still ignoring them.” Yuuri glances at his friend, hoping the other two skaters coming won’t make him want to leave.

“About time you saw them. Chris has been so annoying. He’s practically moved into my apartment because he’s so bored without Victor around to entertain him. You have one fucking weird friendship,” Yuri complains.

Victor grins at that. “I’m sure he simply ruined your innocence.”

“Trust me. I am never looking at any website he suggests ever again.”

They start laughing, though Yurio mostly sits and grumbles. It’s nice, normal and Yuuri loves it. Hopefully calling Phichit goes this well; that when they come to visit it isn’t tense or weird. Yuuri wants his life to go back to being normal like this, all the time.

 

***

 

Victor later finds Yuuri sitting in the storage room, Victor’s skates sitting in front of Yuuri’s crossed legs. “Yuuri what are you doing?” His husband’s fingers dance across the gold of the blades. Victor was sure he’d never look at his beloved skates again, let alone see Yuuri anywhere near them.

“Yuri was right… I can’t just make you walk away from something you love. Even with how much you love me.”

“Yuuri.” They’ve been over it so many times, Victor knows that the guilt is buried deep but he had hoped they were past it. “I have you, I don’t need anything else. You’ve given me so much more than skating could. Like our mornings together, cooking with each other, when we dance. Those are all things you’ve given to me. Skating could never give me the love you do each and every day just by existing.”

“But you miss it.” It isn’t a question.

Victor sighs and comes to sit down behind the man, brushing his fingers up Yuuri’s spine. “Yes my love, sometimes I miss it but that doesn’t change anything. You are the love of my life there is nothing in this world more important to me.”

Yuuri leans backward into Victor, letting his head fall against his shoulder so he can look up at Victor’s face. “I want to try again.”

The statement startles Victor, his fingers pausing from working their way up Yuuri’s side. “Try skating?” he asks, wary. 

Yuuri seems to realize his unease and casts his eyes away. “I’m not going to try to kill myself if it goes wrong again,” he mumbles.

“I wasn’t…” Victor bites his lip but stops the lie from forming because he had been thinking about it and they both know it. “I wouldn’t worry about you doing that now,” he amends because that at least is the truth. Yuuri is stronger now than he was then. “I trust you, I just worry.”

Yuuri nods and Victor presses his lips to the man’s exposed throat. 

“If you really want to try again, I won’t stop you.”

“I want to skate with you Victor, not by myself.”

“Oh.” Victor looks down at his skates again, his stomach twisting painfully. He hasn’t really had any desire to go back to the ice after the second incident, the love of it practically burned out of him after it had almost robbed him of Yuuri not once, but twice. If he was really being honest he had given up skating for himself just as much as he had for Yuuri. “I can try,” he says, pressing another kiss to Yuuri’s skin to distract himself from the mounting anxiety. If it’s what Yuuri wants then Victor will try.

The rink is silent like it was last time they had visited. Victor takes a deep breath, letting the cold air sooth him. He had basically been raised on the ice, even with his drive to skate gone walking into a rink still feels like coming home. 

Yuuri stands still beside him, shoulders tense. Victor reaches up to brush some hair away from his face. “You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I know.” Yuuri leans into Victor’s gentle touch, lips pressing against his palm in reassurance before he steps forward. “I’m okay,” he promises.

Yuuri sits on the bench, leaning over to put his skates on. Victor kneels in front of him, tugging the skates free. “Let me,” he says. Victor carefully works Yuuri’s skates onto each foot, taking care not to push too hard and hurt his ankle. He wraps the laces in knots, tugging them until they’re tight in place and leave no room for injury when their wearer stands up. Victor hopes that the care in his movements cover up the way his hands subtly shake.

“Thank you,” Yuuri breaths and his cheeks are pink with a blush as he looks down at him.

Victor grins despite the tight ball of anxiety in his gut. He doesn’t take nearly as much time to pull on his own skates, too busy watching Yuuri from the corner of his eye for any signs of anxiety. Yuuri seems oddly calm, looking over the rink with alert brown eyes. “Ready.”

Yuuri offers Victor his hand as they stand at the edge of the ice. It’s so different than last time, where Yuuri couldn’t be anywhere near him. 

Victor steps out, following Yuuri’s lead. The ice feels foreign under his skates and he wobbles, something entirely laughable if anyone ever saw the great Victor Nikiforov wobbling like a beginning skater as he steps out on the ice.

“Hold my other hand,” Yuuri says, turning to skate backwards so that they are face to face. Victor obeys, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and let’s himself be tugged gently along the ice.

They circle the rink, slowly, without much direction. It gives Victor a chance to study Yuuri’s face, watch for panic but there isn’t any. Yuuri still looks calm and collected. He isn’t smiling but he isn’t running away from Victor either and that helps loosen the anxiety that eats at his own stomach.

He might even remember how wonderful it had been to skate with Yuuri before he had to taint it with mistakes.

They do figures and single jumps, nothing fancy or anything that has Victor lifting his skates from the ice very far. They don’t skate for very long either, less than an hour but Victor’s muscles start to burn anyways. His body has started to like retirement it seems and he feels older than he was when he left the ice, even if he hasn’t aged by more than one year.

They come back to each other after a mirrored spread eagle, Yuuri curling into his chest and Victor breaths out a sigh of contentment at holding Yuuri again. Victor rests his chin against Yuuri’s hair, breathing in his husband’s smell. 

Yuuri presses himself as close as he can get, working hard to find the courage Victor always says he has so much of.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Victor mumbles into his hair, breaking the quiet. “What is it?”

“I didn't hate it…”

“But you don't feel the same passion you used to?”

Yuuri smiles into Victor’s shirt and gives a small nod. 

“That isn't a bad thing.”

“But…” Yuuri worries his lip between his teeth until the smile disappears. “Will you still want me if I can't skate? If we can't skate?”

“Yuuri.” Victor sighs deeply, hugging him tighter and it feels nice, safe. “I fell in love with more than just your skating.”

“I know but…”

“You fell in love with me for more than just being Victor Nikiforov right? World champion, living legend, Russia's hero…” Yuuri giggles and Victor trails off clearly actually wanting an answer.

“Of course I did.”

“Well I fell in love with more than just Yuuri Katsuki the figure skater.” Victor pulls back and Yuuri tilts his head up, searching for Victor’s lips. “I married you for more than just the blades strapped to your feet,” Victor continues when they break apart. “If you don't want to skate anymore, it’s fine by me.” Victor pauses, hesitant for a long minute and Yuuri waits patiently for whatever it is he wants to still say. “May I tell you a secret?”

Yuuri nods. 

“I don't feel passion for the ice like I did before. I came out on it today because you wanted to but the ice almost robbed me of you twice, I'm much happier not coming back to it.”

Yuuri feels his lips form into a silent oh. He'd somehow ignored Victor’s needs again, in favor of his own desires. He lets his hand reach down, lacing his fingers with Victor’s fingers. He squeezes them tightly, trying to communicate all the unspoken feelings between them. They’ve come so far in so many different ways and yet Yuuri still has so much to learn about Victor, has so much to give him to make Victor feel safe and whole. “I should have asked.”

Victor grins at him and kisses the frown lines around his lips. “I wanted to let you try. Don’t worry about me my Yuuri.”

They stand on the ice, wrapped tight around one another as the chill of the air settles against their skin. Times passes slowly, both content to just stay in their own little bubble of happiness.

“You’re hogging the rink.”

Startled, Yuuri turns around to find Yurio leaning against the boards, smirking at them. “Sorry did you want to skate?”

“If you aren’t going to then no. You’re supposed to be entertaining me on my stay, yet I can’t get you two to separate for even ten seconds.” Yurio scowls but Yuuri can see the fondness in his relaxed posture, the way he watches them. “Phichit and Chris get in tomorrow, can we go do something actually fun until then?”

“What a pain, having to share my precious Yuuri.” Victor sighs dramatically, pressing a kiss against Yuuri’s throat. “What do you want to do my love?”

“I want to go dance.”

Victor’s eyes light up as they slowly skate off the ice, hand in hand. “Yurio we have something much more fun than skating to show you.”

Yuri groans, watching and waiting as they slowly take their skates off.

“Ready?” Victor asks, holding out a hand to Yuuri.

Yuuri lets his skates fall against Victor’s as he slips them off. He sits for a moment, staring because he isn’t taking them back home. They can stay at Ice Castle, they belong here. His skates are a part of this place in a way Yuuri isn’t anymore. He hums and lets himself be pulled up. “Yeah,” he says. Ignoring Yurio’s scoff, Yuuri pulls Victor back toward him, tilting his head up to kiss the older man once more. 

“What?” Victor breathes when they part from a long kiss.

“Nothing,” Yuuri says. He threads their hands together once more. “I just love you.”

“I love you too,” Victor says. They both ignore Yurio’s gagging noises.

Victor’s smile is infectious and Yuuri can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips. Even without skating they’ll be just fine Yuuri realizes because he’s never trusted Victor more than he does right now. It doesn’t feel like he’s leaving a part of them behind anymore, they’ll always have what skating brought them but Yuuri is ready to move onto something new, something exciting with his husband. Everyday together has a new surprise waiting and Yuuri loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for the kudos and the comments. Those comments were incredibly special to me and were the only drive I had to push this to the end. Now that I'm done I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, this consumed all the time I had that wasn't spent at work. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought. I live for it.
> 
> Feel free to visit my tumblr [here](http://tothebatcave53.tumblr.com/). Hopefully I find a new idea to work on soon. Yuri on Ice gives me purpose :)

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm basing this off two different events that I kinda just mashed together because I wanted something super angst ridden. A hockey player really did get his throat [cut](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clint_Malarchuk#Neck_injury) while defending the goal in 1989 and in a 2007 pair skate, one athlete [caught](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jessica_Dub%C3%A9#Accidents) his partner across the cheek and nose with his skate blade. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have no idea if what I had happen in this fic to Yuuri is plausible so there might have to be some suspension of disbelief for it to work. I really just needed to write something bad happening to my two favorite skaters that they could grow and recover from together. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are totally welcome. My tumblr is [here](http://tothebatcave53.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk about Yuri on Ice.


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